


Crown of the Wolf

by LittleMossyFlowers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Canon Universe, Conflict, F/M, Gen, He Wants Peace, House Stark, Jon and Sansa Meet Again, Jon and Sansa are Serious People, Jon and Sansa try to come to terms with their pasts, Jon is a troubled soul, Loss of Faith, Mystical association of the Starks with The North, Nature, Post - Game of Thrones (TV), Post S8, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale, Pregnancy, Queen in the North, Redemption, Romance, Somewhat Feminist Take on Sansa, The Starks - Freeform, Winterfell, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 72,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMossyFlowers/pseuds/LittleMossyFlowers
Summary: Jon and Sansa (as Queen In The North) meet again after his exile. Because of Sansa's past trauma, she believes it makes sense to marry Jon.  They discover an increasingly deep connection to the North and are actively pondering the meaning of their place within it. This story is compliant with the events of the series, there may be a few minor differences."There is nothing beyond this life, Jon thought. That was what death had shown him, and what no mortal wanted to face.Life was the blood that coursed through their veins.  It was the white trees and the Wolfswood, the green of The Gift.  The North lived in the Starks because they had made it so, and Jon thought it must be in their blood for he and Sansa to love each other.  There was nothing beyond their bodies and the way they fit together.  If the gods were real, that must be what they’d intended.  They were here to serve the life that women and men passed to their children; that was their only immortality.  Everything was rooted in the sacred renewal that he had almost allowed Dany to destroy. A thirst for power twisted the proper order of things.  If he knew anything now, that was at the core of it."
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 161
Kudos: 479





	1. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns of Jon's imminent return to Winterfell.

Sansa had worn the crown for nearly two years when a Raven came from the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch announcing a visit to Winterfell.The time had gone quickly enough and had been mostly occupied with restoring the ancient castle to its former state.Dozens of carpenters and stonemasons had toiled to correct the damage done during the great battle, and the repairs were now mostly completed.

Sansa was pleased to often spend her days consulting with the builders and focusing on other mundane matters.The people of the North had rejoiced when a briefer than usual winter had given way to the stirrings of a verdant Spring.Soon after Sansa had arrived home, a few green shoots had emerged from the ground and she had imagined that the new growth was precipitated by the death of the Night King. So many had sacrificed their lives on that terrible night and Sansa’s sleep was sometimes disturbed by visions of the broken crypts and of Theon’s body on the pyre.

Her brother Bran had been similarly occupied to the South and Sansa received occasional Ravens informing of his progress.The damage to King’s Landing was so massive, however, that work was expected to continue for several more years.In the meantime, the remaining six kingdomshad settled into a quiet, if wary peace, hoping for better times under their new ruler, Bran the Broken. The conquest of Daenerys Targaryen had left Westeros with little taste for conflict and the great houses were at least for the time being content keeping mostly to their own affairs.

Sansa sat mutely at her desk staring at the scroll from Jon long after the Maester had departed the room.The shadows lengthened as Sansa recalled the last time she, Jon, Bran and Arya had seen each other on the pier just before Jon had departed for Castle Black.It had been a wrenching farewell; Jon had sacrificed so much for the Starks and his reward had been an exile that Sansa was powerless to stop and Bran felt it necessary to sanction.She laid the scroll on the desk, all the while studying it still, until finally she sighed and covered her face with her hands.She wondered what Jon thought of it all, especially now that Sansa was queen.Was he bitter about his exile, or had he accepted it?And most of all, how did he now feel about Father and what he’d done to protect him as Lyanna’s son? The Starks’ long exile from Winterfell and each other had ended at last, only for them to again be scattered to the four winds. And Jon had been at the center of it all, a Stark through and through despite being half-dragon.

He’d proven that by ending Dany’s life; Sansa, Arya and Bran all knew it.Sansa also knew she was Queen now and the North free only because of Jon’s sacrifice.Jon was said to have been broken by what he had done; Sansa had heard it from Tyrion. Sitting at her desk, Sansa felt sorry for what Jon had endured although she wasn’t sorry that Dany was gone.Sansa had never been convinced by Jon’s assurances that the Dragon Queen would be good for the North and for the Starks, but she did believe in her brother as a man with a pure and honorable heart.To Sansa, Jon had been the true Targaryen heir and a worthy king.

But Jon was not King; instead he had trekked through the True North with the Wildlings in search of a new home for them.For more than a year he had lived among them and helped establish them again near Hardhome before finally returning to Castle Black, and his ordained life of exile. What purpose had the Watch now, without the Others? Sansa knew Castle Black to be just another outpost, largely stripped of its former mission and significance.How terrible that Jon should have to rot there; perhaps with very little to do now. Sansa felt an awful pang of guilt at the thought of him living again in that remote place with no family near him. _He does have Ghost_ , thought Sansa; certainly one of his last ties to his life with the Starks.Now Jon was returning to Winterfell with a few men in order to obtain some supplies for castle black.Most likely he could be expected within a Moon and Sansa would begin preparing at once for his visit.


	2. Return

Sansa had always liked having domestic tasks to complete and during the next several days her spare moments were filled with preparations for Jon’s arrival. Besides instructing the servants on the grain and other goods that were to be gathered for Castle Black, Sansa had Jon’s old rooms readied, and even some new clothing made for him along with a special pallet for Ghost. She inspected his rooms herself, making sure that every detail was in order and comforts were provided. Surely Castle Black’s amenities had not changed or had even worsened since the war, and Sansa wanted Jon to have a respite from that place.

Since Jon’s Raven of two weeks ago, a question had arisen over the Last Hearth. As the Umbers had been wiped out by the Army of the Dead, the castle was in need of new occupants who could hold it responsibly. Sansa intended to ask Jon’s advice, since The Last Hearth was closest to Castle Black. She had thought to give it to Tormund Giantsbane as a reward for his assistance to the North, but was unsure of his whereabouts. Several times families had petitioned Sansa and her council to be granted the castle, but Sansa thought it crucial that it be held by someone who would be able to defend it should it ever again be necessary. Its location was so remote and close to Castle Black that perhaps Jon Snow should have a say in the matter.

Sansa stood on the battlements late one morning, remembering the last time Jon had arrived at the gates of Winterfell. He had been with Daenerys Targaryen, the silver haired queen, and two dragons had flown overhead to herald the arrival of her armies of thousands. This time his retinue would be considerably smaller and less dramatic. In due course she saw the approaching riders, and at the same moment she was informed of Jon’s approach by a guard.

“Your Grace, the Lord Commander is nearing the gates.” Sansa’s heart pounded as she descended to the courtyard. A few visiting Lords and Ladies, Maester Wolkan and other assorted household members had gathered there to receive the guest. Jon rode through the gate with a handful of men and Ghost trotting behind. A stableboy took Jon’s horse as he dismounted and turned to walk towards Sansa. He was the same, and yet different. Sansa had never seen Jon in his Night’s Watch cloak before, but he still wore Longclaw and his hair was bound neatly behind him. As Jon approached, Sansa remembered the last time they had seen each other on the dock at King’s Landing. Jon stopped in front of Sansa and bowed.

“Your Grace”, he addressed her. But Sansa only held out her arms to him and they embraced.

“Jon”, she said, holding him by the shoulders at arms length. “I’m so glad you’re home again.” They looked into each others eyes for a long moment. Jon’s gaze dropped briefly before he looked up and smiled at her. The shock of seeing him again washed over her.

“It’s good to be back”, Jon said courteously, before turning to acknowledge Maester Wolkan and the others standing at Sansa’s side. After a few formalities, Sansa gestured for Jon to walk beside her through the courtyard and an inner gate, as the others followed behind.

“It’s good to see Winterfell almost back to normal”, Jon said, looking around him as they walked side by side.

“We’ve worked hard to restore it”, Sansa replied, “Though there’s still more to do. Sansa studied Jon’s face thoughtfully. He had changed little over two years, although he seemed a bit wary of her. “Shall we visit the Godswood, or would you prefer some refreshment or to rest for a bit? I’ve had your old rooms prepared for you.”

Jon seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Aye, the Godswood then”, he told her.

Sansa motioned for her retinue to leave off following them, and she and Jon turned towards the moss covered arch with Ghost trailing behind them. “Are you sure you’re not thirsty?”, she asked politely as they walked.

“I’m alright, we weren’t riding long today.” The sun shone on his face, and he squinted and looked at her a bit appraisingly. “You look well, Sansa”, he said finally. “I hope being Queen in the North hasn't been a burden to you.” His voice was gravelly and deep.

She smiled as they approached the Weirwood Tree, it’s bright leaves shimmering in the sunlight. The blue pool beneath it was serene, its waters still. “Like being King was for you?”, She asked him, before she could stop herself. "I only meant that it can be difficult," she added.

They stopped. Jon looked at the tree and again at Sansa. His dark eyes narrowed only slightly as he exhaled. “There’s a lot of memories here,” he said finally, changing the subject. His gaze settled on a spot under the Weirwood’s spreading branches. “And Arya?, he asked “Has there been any word of her?”

“No”, says Sansa softly. “I wish I could tell you different. But perhaps there will be soon.” Ghost nudged at Sansa's hand, and she patted his head gently. _I wish lady were here_ , she thought to herself.

“I hope so”, says Jon. He turned to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. Father and your Mother would be proud of what you’ve done Sansa. I hope you're alright here alone?”

“We’re both alone, I suppose,” she replied. “I think of you sometimes Jon. About how everything turned out, and I think it’s so strange.”

“Why?” He asks, his gaze holding her own.

“I never imagined our lives would come to this. Mother and Father gone, Robb and Rickon. Our lives so changed. It’s not that I’m unhappy exactly; I love the North, and I serve it willingly, but sometimes I feel numb. I wonder how things turned out this way."

“I wish I knew”. His hand dropped to her wrist, and he gave it a brief squeeze. “We can only try to do what’s right; that’s how we can remember them”, he said softly. They gazed into each others eyes again. Sansa remembered how much they had been through together: raising a Northern army; The Battle of the Bastards; The Long Night. _There's so many people here_ , _but we know each other best_ , she thought to herself.

But she only nodded wordlessly.

"I've missed you, sister," he said.

They embraced mutely for a moment before turning back towards the castle arm in arm.


	3. Brother

At dinner Sansa wore a green dress of raw silk, with her hair down she looked like a young girl again.There were scant guests at Winterfell that evening, only a few Lords and ladies and the five Night’s Watchmen who had accompanied Jon South.Jon sat next to Sansa at the main table, but the setting was quite intimate compared to the large gatherings held there after the Battle for Winterfell.They spoke of the supplies Jon would be bringing back North with him in several day's time, of Bran’s reign in the South and the recent warmer weather.They studiously avoided the subject of Daenerys Targaryen, who had sat at this very table not so long ago.Sansa knew they would have to broach the subject eventually, but for now she was happy just to see Jon again and to share the company of another Stark. For the moment, what had happened two years ago seemed far away from their minds.

There were a few polite toasts; to the Queen, the Night’s Watch, and to Jon himself.After a time, Sansa noticed that Jon was tired and she rose to take leave.The others stood, and Jon and Sansa walked off toward their chambers. 

“I hope you found everything in order”, Sansa told him, as she turned to bid him goodnight.Her maid stood behind her as Jon nodded gracefully.

“Yes, Sansa.Everything looks just as I remember." There was a sadness about him that she felt it best not to delve into for the time being.

“Goodnight then,” she said.“Please ask for anything you require; I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.We’ll speak again tomorrow.”Sansa opened the door to her chambers as Jon walked on with Ghost in tow. With the door ajar, she looked after him for a moment.

The next day after Sansa held audiences, she and Jon sat together for lunch in her solar.After resting, Jon looked well.Many dishes were brought before them and they ate and laughed together a bit, falling back into their old habits before Jon had traveled South.Ghost curled at Jon’s feet, dozing as the meal wore on.Sansa was pleased to see Jon happy; and that he wore the new linen tunic and black breeches that She had had made for him.Out of his Night’s watch clothing, he almost looked again like the boy who rode for Castle Black; quiet and unassuming. A strange nostalgia gripped her as he gracelessly popped a lemon cake into his mouth, and she had to chuckle.

Jon looked at her quizzically.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just thinking about family meals before we left home…Arya throwing food and Father telling us to mind our manners”

“I remember”, Jon said.“So much has happened since then, it feels like a dream now.”He stopped eating and rested his hands on the table.He took a deep breath and said, “Sansa we need to talk.Who knows when I’ll be back here again.There’s things we have to speak about.”

Sansa leaned her head closer to his from across the table.“I know we have to talk, but I don’t want to force you.Only if you want to."She stood and motionedhim to a pair of wooden chairs near the fire.Jon complied as a maid cleared the table.They sat silently until they were left alone. Sansa smoothed her skirts and fingered her silver pendant.She drew a deep breath.

“I didn’t want you to go back to the Watch; I hope you know that.And I’m not sure why you even have to be there now. Bran felt that it was necessary, and we couldn't stop it.I wanted you to come home.”

Jon looked into the flames wordlessly.“Something had to be done”, he finally said.“To appease her armies.”His face assumed a dark expression.

“I haven't forgotten you”, Sansa told him.“You did the right thing."

Jon shifted in his chair and drew a breath.“It hasn't always felt like the right thing.I expected to die; sometimes I wished I had. Being back here - it feels like a different world now. I hope a better one."

"It is better, in many ways. But with most of our family gone - that can be hard to bear."

“Why did you tell Tyrion about me?,”He asked her, after a silence. "Did you want to fix my mistakes?" 

Sansa turned in her seat and faced him. "I didn't trust her, Jon. And I was afraid for you. I thought the others would act to crown you."

"I know you thought that. But I meant what I said. I didn't want it. It wasn't for me."

“It wasn't for her either, I suppose," She answered _._

Jon looked pensively at the fire and didn't reply for a long while. "I can't really talk about her. Even if I wanted to. It's too hard. She did fight with us. I believed in her, and I was wrong. Maybe that proves I'm not cut out to rule.

“You think any of those who came before were better than you?”, Sansa scoffed.“I can assure you the answer is no.I knew them.” The echoes of their old arguments ran through her mind.

“It doesn’t matter now, Sansa. Bran has the crown. And you have the North."

“Thanks to you.”

"Not just me. And your mother and father- they'd be proud to see what you've done." 

"Mother...," Sansa began. "I'm sorry she was cruel to you sometimes."

“She was a good woman.Some things are too hard to bear.”

Sansa was silent at the memory of her mother’s treatment of Jon."It wasn't your fault. You were a child," she told him finally. She looked over to him, his head was bowed, his face somber. _Something in him_ is _broken_ , she thought.

"I meant what I said. You are a Stark to me; and to Arya, too. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.For us,” she said.“Let me help you.Don’t go back to The Watch; stay here where you belong.”

Jon was taken aback by her words. 

“Do you think Bran really cares if you stay with the Watch?And Castle Black is part of the North.Why shouldn't I pardon you?”

“You shouldn’t because it’s wrong.”

“What happened to you is wrong. I understand why Bran did it. But that was two years ago. Grey Worm and the Dothraki are gone"

“I’m a pariah now, Sansa”, Jon said cynically.

“Not here," she said. 

“I don’t belong here anymore,” he said, his voice hardening slightly.“Not after what happened.And it would be wrong to go against Bran.”

“I’ll write to him”, Sansa said. "It won't happen immediately."

Jon leaned back in his chair thoughtfully.He looked at Sansa intently and finally took her hand.“I wish I was the man you believe me to be."

Sansa leaned towards him; their hands still joined.“Jon.You belong here in Winterfell.Please think about it.” 

Jon sighed and sat up straight again. They released each others hands.“Aye, I will. Maybe you shouldn’t be alone here.Father wouldn’t like that…, but I can’t promise anything…”, His words trailed off, and Jon was silent. 

“I can’t imagine…” Sansa began.‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to have your whole world upended.But I know Father would still have treated you as his son had he lived to tell us the truth.”Jon took a deep breath, but said nothing.Sansa rose from her seat.“I’m sorry, but I have to meet with lord Cerwyn today.Will I see you at supper?”

Jon stood as well, and they walked together towards the door. “Yes, of course,’ he said.“I think I’ll check on the supplies in the meantime.”They lingered together for a moment in the doorway as Sansa’s maid approached.

‘Think about what I said”, she told him before proceeding toward the stairwell. She looked back at him once.He stood on the threshold watching as she descended.


	4. Jonquils

"Your Grace, there is still the question of the Last Hearth", said Lord Cley Cerwyn, lowering his eyes deferentially.

"Yes. "I've had an idea about it", Sansa replied. "But I'll need to speak with my brother." Lord Cerwyn looked a bit confused.

"The King?", he asked politely.

"I meant the Lord Commander. He knows that country far better than Bran. And it's ours."

"Right," said Cerwyn. "And your idea?"

Sansa leaned back in her chair. They were sitting at the front table in the Great Hall, while a low fire burned in the hearth behind them. A few servants bustled about in preparation for the evening meal. 

"I'm considering giving the Last Hearth to a Wildling." It's time we brought their people into the fold. They helped us in the great battle, and they should be rewarded. I think in the long term it would strengthen the North." Sansa studied Cerwyn's face for a reaction. It wasn't long before one revealed itself.

"But Your Grace...", he began. "Surely we are all grateful for their help, but Wildlings? I fear that this won't be accepted by the other Lords.'

"That's why I'm asking Jon. He's the man to see to it and to convince the others. My Lord, The Wall has been broken, and The Others defeated. What reasons are left to keep things as they were before? Including the Wildlings will make the North stronger. We have to change with the times. And the Last Hearth is close to Castle Black. Jon can keep an eye on it."

"Perhaps, Your Grace", Cerwyn said uncertainly. "With so many gone in the battle, there are gaps to fill."

"Exactly," said Sansa. 

"There's another matter, your Grace, that deserves your attention." Cerwyn hesitated and looked a bit embarrassed, his eyes suddenly downcast.

"Yes?"

"House Stark. Mustn't it have an heir? The Lords have been speaking amongst themselves. Surely someone worthy of you can be put forward soon?"

Sansa folded her hands on the table and straightened her shoulders. "It will be taken under consideration in due course."

"I'm happy to hear it, Your Grace. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

Sansa looked Lord Cerwyn in the eye. "Yes, My Lord. I am only being prudent. My last marriage was difficult as you know. I need time."

"That's very understandable. We want only the best for you, Your Grace.'

"Good," said Sansa. "Then you'll understand why this can't be rushed."

"Indeed. I'm only...." Cerwyn's words trailed off as Jon entered the Great Hall and approached the table. 

"If you'll excuse me, Lord Cerwyn, I must speak with the Lord Commander." Cerwyn rose, bowed to Sansa and nodded to Jon before leaving the table. "Jon, is anything the matter?," she asked with a surprised look on her face. 

"Am I interrupting something important?," he asked her. 

"Not at all. In fact you arrived at just the right moment." Sansa motioned for Jon to sit, but he remained standing as Sansa regarded him quizzically. His face bore the hint of a smile; it pleased her to see his mood somewhat lightened.

"I have something to show you is all. If you're free."

Sansa stood up. "Whatever is it?," she asked, her curiosity piqued. Jon stepped aside, and motioned for Sansa to take her cloak; they walked together towards the door.

"In the Godswood", he said. Sansa glanced at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. Jon only smiled mysteriously and said nothing more.

"Alright then." She walked beside him into the courtyard and they headed towards the outer archway to the Godswood. Budding branches and bird's songs beckoned from beyond the mossy granite walls. Jon's steps were somehow lighter as they advanced; Sansa couldn't really remember the last time she had seen him like this.

"Your meeting with Lord Cerwyn?", he enquired. "How did it go?"

"Oh, it went mostly as I'd have expected. There is a matter I must discuss with you...". At this point they came abreast of the great Weirwood, its branches spreading majestically beneath a splendid blue sky. The shallow pool beneath was surrounded by its usual verdant bed of moss. But overnight there had erupted a sea of white and yellow jonquils, their sweet fragrance heady and overwhelming. Sansa gasped at the sight and rushed forward to stand under the tree and amidst the flowers. Jon stood back and laughed aloud.

"I knew you would want to see it", he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 _The last time either of us saw this sight was when? ,_ Sansa wondered to herself, as she looked around in amazement. It had been long before she or Jon had left Winterfell. The heavy scent of jonquils, the lush green of the moss returned her to a different time when the world had been simpler and so much less dark. Suddenly she saw Robb, Bran and Rickon running along the bank of the pool or hiding among the greenish slabs that lay there. And she saw her younger self, seated on one of the stones, dreaming of Duncan and Jenny. Sansa was elated and heartbroken all at once.

She and Jon held each other's gaze. Sansa felt for a moment that they were reading each other's thoughts and that she might be swallowed by his eyes. They stood there like that, as if frozen. Feeling dizzy, she turned back toward the great tree and stared at its cryptic face in order to steady herself. Jon took a step toward her then, as she turned back to face him. His expression was a mixture of elation and regret as he extended his hand as if to support her. 

"I saw them too," he said, his eyes sad.

He drew a deep breath. "Remember we used to play here?" He lowers his hand. "I'm sorry, maybe this is all too much for you. I wanted to show you the flowers, or I thought I did...".

"No, no. I'm just overwhelmed", Sansa says. "I wasn't expecting this. We can't run from our memories." She smiles at him. "It's beautiful, Jon; thank you." 

Jon drew closer to her, looking relieved, as they stood together. Sansa bent to pick one flower, then more. "I'll take them for my solar", she says, busying herself. He sat on a stone to watch, until she had gathered a full bouquet of white and yellow, and finally came to sit beside him. 

"This place is happy and sad", he observed. "We can't change that Sansa. I don't want to forget them, and I know you don't either."

Sansa nodded and smoothed her hair from her face as she set down her bouquet beside her on the stone. "The Lords want me to marry", she said glancing at him. "They say our family must go on. What do you think?"

"They aren't wrong," Jon says after a considered silence. "But I think you should please yourself - don't be rushed into anything."

"There's no one even in mind yet. I really don't want to marry after...," her words trailed off. "But what will become of House Stark? We can't have taken back our home for our family only to see the Starks die out." Sansa folded her hands in her lap and drew a deep breath.

"You see, Jon, what you've come back to? Why I need your help? Sometimes I think securing Winterfell and the North was the simple part. Now there are problems whose solutions are not as crystal clear. Wanting to fight for our people, replacing stone - those are the easy things."

"The Lords can wait a bit," said Jon. "You are their Queen now, and you will find your way. This isn't a decision to be taken lightly. I'll speak to Cerwyn if you like - as your brother."

"Perhaps," said Sansa. "I've told him I need more time. There's something else, but it can wait until later. Let's sit here for a little while."

She leaned back a bit, taking in the sun, the trees, the flowers, and Jon's wistful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cley Cerwyn apparently survived the Battle of the Bastards on the show. He spoke in the scene where Jon Snow was crowned.


	5. Cuts

As Jon waited to go down for the evening meal, his thoughts turned to Sansa’s account of Cerwyn’s query earlier in the day.He sat before the hearth in his chamber sipping somewine and pondering her situation.With anger, he recalled what Sansa had told him of her treatment by Ramsay Bolton during the time of their marriage.While Jon and Sansa were traveling the North and trying to garner support for their cause of regaining Winterfell, she had once peeled aside one shoulder of her dress to show him the marks from where Ramsay had cut her.

They had been sitting in Sansa and Brienne’s tent deep in the Wolfswood, talking of their impending visit to Lord Glover.Brienne had appeared with a tuber she had dug outside and thenhanded to Sansa.

“What’s that?”, Jon had asked, when he saw the whitish and twisted root in Sansa’s hands.

Sansa had explained that it was from a special plant that could be sliced open andused for skin lacerations.Lady Catelyn and Maester Leuwin had used the same plant for injuries during her childhood at Winterfell.Then she had shown Jon her shoulder.The skin there was marked with crisscrossing lines that were irritated and inflamed.He had been speechless with anger and indignation, especially since Sansa implied there were other injuries that she hadn't shown him. It had made him even more determined than before to raise an army that would hand the despicable Ramsay a resounding defeat.

Not only had Sansa been dishonored and abused; he had not been there to protect her!The very thought turned his blood to ice and then filled him with remorse. At the time, Jon had done his best to modulate his reaction to the cuts so as not to worsen her shame and embarrassment.He had stood with her before Lord Glover and endured others who had “refused the call”, and all along his admiration for his sister increased.He told himself that he must, like her, go forward despite the wounds that had been suffered; the heavy losses endured.In this, Sansa had been a perfect example of courage and grit.

And now, he thought, more trauma might well fall upon her should she be persuaded by the Lords that she must again marry.He turned his goblet in his hand, considering whether he should speak to Cerwyn and make it clear once and for all that a marriage was off the table for now.Sansa had not, after all, told him not to do so, and Jon feared that she would be driven by a sense of duty to accept an unsuitable husband.Before his journey from Castle Black, he had resigned himself to life at The Wall with occasional forays to the North and the Wildlings.He felt unworthy of any existence beyond that. But being at Winterfell again and seeing Sansa had reawakened a greater purpose that he thought had died within himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.“Come in”, he called out.The door opened.It was Sansa, coming to collect him for dinner in the great hall.She wore a plain but elegant gown of dove gray, her hair down, and a circlet of the jonquils from the Godswood around her wrist.Her beauty was almost painful to Jon as he considered how it had been defiled. 

“Ready?”, she asked.

“Aye”, said Jon, reaching for a quilted doublet that Sansa had provided from the tailor in Winterfell.“This reminds me of Tyrion,”He joked, as he straightened theshoulders and fastened the silvery clasps.

“But it’s your color, and quite plain;I saw to that”, said Sansa, indicating the dark gray cast of the cloth.“It looks Northern."

“Thank You, Sansa.” Jon finished fastening the doublet and folded his arms across his chest.

“I want things to be right between us,” she said suddenly.She sat down in Jon’s chair by the fire;Jon stepped back and seated himself on the edge of his desk.He said nothing; waiting for her to go on.“I know I broke my word to you,” Sansa began, her hands folded in her lap.“I felt that I had no choice, because I thought that eventually she would kill you. That she would destroy you just as the Mad King destroyed our grandfather and uncle.And I didn’t want to give the North away.I hoped Tyrion or Varys would act on your behalf when they found out about you. I know that was dangerous as well.”

“You shut us out, Jon.I understand _why_ you did it; we needed her armies and you thought it was best.But we fought for that crown, men died for us…to give it away to a _Targaryen_?” Here Sansa hesitated, realizing what she had just said.“You didn’t know you were a Targaryen then, of course,” she added hastily. "To me you are a Stark." Sansa placed her hands on the arm of her chair and straightened her shoulders. Her blue eyes were ablaze.

“You will always be my sister, and I will always want to protect you,” Jon began.“Even if you don’t think I can.”He recalled the night before they took back Winterfell. 

“I thought she would be a good queen,” he added.“In the end, I was wrong, and you and Arya were right. So you want me to forgive you for being right?,” Jon shrugged.

“For breaking my word.”

“There were many complications,” Jon observed. “We have to go forward. No matter what you decide or I decide to do in our lives now.”Suddenly Jon remembered their conversation on the parapet long ago. _We have to trust each other._

“We’ll move forward as best we can.I forgive you, if you can forgive me for being a fool,” he said.

“You’re not”, Sansa said, rising and taking a step towards him.She placed her hand on his arm. _“You’re not.”_

Somehow, her words cut him to the quick. It was not the first time that Sansa had assured Jon of her faith in him.He was not certain that he deserved it any more after what had happened. Yet it was true, as she'd intimated, that in many respects, he and Sansa were each all that was left to the other.Their blood tie might not be precisely what they had always believed it to be, but they were surely bound by more than blood.

He put his hand over hers and gripped it lightly.“I’ll let you believe in me, if you let me watch over you,”he said, “even just a little.”Sansa nodded thoughtfully, and tugged him towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the show wasn't too explicit about exactly what happened to Sansa while married to Ramsay Bolton, there was more than enough to surmise that she suffered horribly and has demonstrated remarkable resilience in coming through it. In this she has something in common with Jon Snow. The things she suffered in her marriage are no doubt reflected in the costume choices made for her on the show - she is armored against intimate contact and has most likely shut down that side of herself for the time being.
> 
> Sansa's character arc, although triumphant, is also deeply sad, which Jon knows and senses about her. Both characters are introspective and principled, which is why I think they would not rush into anything, especially with each other.


	6. The Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa entertain guests at dinner.

The great hall was lit for the evening meal.Two large iron candelabra stood on each side of the hearth, which blazed with its own fire.The longtrestle table had trays of candles too, with some dried flowers placed around them.There were guests that night with Lords in attendance; including Cerwyn, Hornwood, Mazin and a few others, some with their ladies.Jon’s men from the Watch sat off at their own table, as did a few tradesmen who had business at the castle.The guests all stood when Sansa entered with Jon behind her.She took her place at the center, with Jon to her left, and she bade them all to sit. Platters of meat rubbed with herbs, roasted turnips, greens, and other dishes were brought to the tables.The guests were provided wine or ale with their meal, and most ate heartily.As they finished, many stood and mingled with one another, goblets still in hand.

Jon was speaking with two of his men about their progress in obtaining needed supplies for the Watch when he was approached by Lord Cerwyn, who had disengaged himself from the small talk at the main table.Jon stood off to the side with him.

“A terrible business, what happened in the South,” He said to Jon.“Amazing you came out of it in one piece”Jon nodded without responding, his face unreadable.

Has the Queen spoken to you of her idea?”, Cerwyn tried again. “About the Last Hearth?”

Jon was puzzled.

“No”, he said.“But she did tell me something of your conversation.The Lords have concerns about House Stark?

“Aye, there’s been talk,” Cerwyn said, running a hand through his shaggy hair.“Queen Sansa is the last Stark.She must consider the future.I’ve heard….I’ve heard that you, Lord Commander are not Ned Stark’s son.With her sister gone and King Bran unable to have children - well, surely ….”, his words trailed off as he observed Jon’s dark expression.

“I still consider the Queen as my sister.I have a responsibility to look after her interests as long as she allows it, “ said Jon.

“Of course, of course, “ said Cerwyn.

“She is not completely adverse to marrying, but this is a delicate matter.She will require more time to consider it.”

“I understand.And may I bring something else to your attention?”Jon nodded.

“The Queen has not yet formed a small council.Something more permanent should be in place now that most of the reconstruction is finished.”Jon looked over to Sansa.She was still sitting at the front table with a goblet of wine, chatting with Lady Hornwood. He glanced back to Cerwyn, who was watching him expectantly. 

“I’ll speak to her,” said Jon.“And now if you’ll excuse me.”Jon was headed back in Sansa’s direction when he wasnext greeted by the new Lord Mazin.Mazin, all of seventeen, wore a black leather doublet over his gray tunic.His black hair was cropped close to his head and he bore an earnest expression on his young face. Jon recalled his father’s body had burned on a funeral pyre after the Long Night.

“Lord Commander”, Mazin began.“May I say it’s good to see you?My father was ever faithful to your cause.”

“Ah, yes,” said Jon.He died here at Winterfell.A terrible loss to your house.”

“Thank You.He is greatly missed.”Mazin lowered his gaze before meeting Jon’s eyes again.“May I ask, I mean I was wondering - Is it true that you are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?The rumors have been flying since the war.”

“It is true, Lord Mazin,” Jon said.“I only found out after my return here.”

Mazin’s face assumed a grave expression.His innocent demeanor reminded Jon of Pyp and Grenn, his old comrades at The Wall.“By what name do you now call yourself?,” he asked Jon, as though wondering aloud.

“Jon,”, he shrugged with a self-deprecating smile.“The Wildlings and the Watchmen still call me Jon Snow.” 

“I see”, said Mazin, smiling in return.“What was it like, to ride a Dragon?”, He asked, as if unable to contain himself.

“Much different from a horse,” Jon replied.“Lord Mazin, I must return to my sister now.Perhaps we’ll speak again sometime.”Jon nodded to him and walked back to his chair.Sansa was finishing a honey cake.

“What did Lady Hornwood have to say?”, he asked her, sitting again.

“Nothing of real import,” Sansa replied.“Have your men found what they need here and in Wintertown?”

“They say we’ve a need for more cloth and candles,”Jon said with a chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll locate them.”

“I could send a raven to White Harbor,” said Sansa.“It may delay them for a time.”She looked over to Jon as if to gauge his reaction.

“Fine.Sansa, why have you not formed a small council,” he asked, his voice lowered.

“There hasn’t been time, nor a real need yet.I’ve had Lord Royce, Lord Hornwood, and a few others to advise me when it’s required.”

“Perhaps you should consider it now.The North is recovering from the war and new situations are bound to arise.”

“Yes, I’ll have to see to it”, she said.“Did you like young Lord Mazin? He’s an affable sort.”

“He seemed agreeable,” said Jon.Lord Hornwood raised his goblet to the Queen, and a round of toasts commenced; to the North, to the Nightswatchmen, to Jon. 

“It’s a tame evening,” Jon noted.“Compared to some of the gatherings I remember.”

“Yes.I must call a meeting of the Lords in the near future.That event will be more raucous,” she observed.Jon yawned and smiled.

“Quiet is a welcome thing, sometimes,” he said.“It feels as if we’ve never had it.” Sansa patted his hand in agreement. 

“You’re tired,” she said.Sansa rose and nodded to her guests.Jon followed her out the doorway adjacent to the hearth, with three of Sansa’s maids behind them.“Come to my solar for wine,” she told him.“It’s been a long day.”


	7. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa discuss the past.

It _had_ been a long day, and only his second one back, Jon thought to himself as he sat before the hearth again in Sansa’s solar.A maid had brought wine and stoked the fire.Sansa poured two goblets and handed one to Jon before sitting in the chair next to him.

“I thought about what you said.I’m glad we can move forward.I’ve been worried ever since your raven came that things would never be right between us, “ Sansa told him. 

“We’re family, and that can never change,” Jon said.“Even if it’s not in the way we always thought.Father never spoke of Lyanna to us, so I know little about her except for the accounts of Robert’s Rebellion.I know it’s the truth that she was my mother, but it doesn’t always seem real.There’s nothing left of her but a statue in the crypts.It seems she’s been lost to us.”

“Mother spoke of her sometimes,” said Sansa.“She was beautiful - and fierce from what I understand. In some ways like Arya.”Sansa looked into the flames thoughtfully.Her red hair shone in the light. _Kissed by fire_ , Jon thought suddenly, without knowing why.

Sansa went into her bedchamber andthen emerged with a small bundle of white linen.She unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a cluster of trinkets.There were some clasps shaped like fish that had belonged to Catelyn, a few plainish rings, and a little necklace of pearls set in silver to look like flowers.Sansa lifted the necklace; it was tarnished, but delicate and fine.“These were still here when I came back with Lord Baelish,”, she said.“Mother kept them behind a loose stone by her hearth.She told me this necklace was Lyanna’s.”

Jon reached out and took the necklace from her, touching the pearls with his fingers, before returning it to Sansa.“Mother said she liked pearls, she had dark hair and a wildness to her. I don’t think she knew her well.”

Jon sighed and drained his goblet.“There’s few still alive who knew her.”

“Take the necklace if you like”, said Sansa. 

“No, you’d best keep it safe,” Jon said.“She was a Stark and it should stay with you.” 

Sansa said nothing in reply and placed the necklace back into the linen.“Father must have loved her very much to keep her secret all those years.He kept it even from Mother.”

A hollow sense of loss crept over Jon as he thought of his parents.In truth, he knew little of his father, other than that Robert Baratheon had avenged Lyanna’s supposed abduction by killing him on the Trident.Dany had insisted that Rhaegar Targaryen had been kind and good, and Bran that he and Lyanna had been in love.Jon could accept these fragments as factual, yet he also understood that a deeper truth had been buried with the tragic couple and was forever lost to him.It was Ned Stark who had raised him as his son, given him brothers, sisters and an identity.That was not easily erased, even by the most startling disclosure.

“I still feel that I am his son,” Jon said.“Who is Rhaegar Targaryen to me?Lyanna; I can accept her as my mother because I’ve never had any idea who my mother was.”

“You’re not a bastard,as you always thought.That’s changed.”

“Does it matter?My real name may as well be a curse.Better to be a Stark Bastard than a true bornTargaryen.”

“You have Stark blood running through your veins,” said Sansa.“In actuality we are cousins, but still blood relations.And you are a wolf.Think of Ghost.He accepted you as our Direwolves accepted us; bonded with us.”

“Thank you, Sansa", he said.

“It’s only the truth.”Sansa looked down at her hands; her fine profile was silhouetted against the flames.“We were both born into the same family, andnow we are almost all that is left of it.We must go on - as Starks.No matter if you remain Jon Snow.”

“Aye, father’s spirit will always bind us,” said Jon. 

“In a strange way being a Stark is what kept me alive when I was …”, Sansa’s voice became almost a whisper.When I was with Ramsay.I knew I had to survive for our house; after what happened to Father, and Mother and Robb.”Sansa put her head in her hands and wiped the tears from her face.Instinctively, Jon moved his chair closer, and then held her to himself.Sansa rested her head against his shoulder for a few moments as she wept silently. They stayed that way for a time, until Sansa finally pulled away from him and pushed her hair back. 

“You don’t have to marry right now,” Jon said.  In truth, he could think of nothing else to say.

“I don’t know if I could, Jon.”Her face was serious.“I don’t know if I could ever go through with it.”Jon reached out and held her hand. 

“Sansa, I’ve told Cerwyn to back off.I think he understood. You should stop thinking about this for the time being -it’s too hard on you.”

Jon let go of her hand and rose.“I’ll send your maid back in, you should sleep now,” he said.Shall we go riding tomorrow, if you can?You could tell me about the other matter you’ve wanted to discuss.”

Sansastood up and nodded.“Yes, I’d like that, “ she said.

“It will be alright.Goodnight.”

Jon went back to his chamber.His felt both clouded from the wine and exhausted by the evening.He thought of Sansa as he prepared to sleep.He knew Sansa was able to rule the North alone, yet he was made uneasy by her isolation. Almost every person she had known from the past was now either dead or gone from Winterfell.And her reluctance to marry was natural, after what had befallen her.Surely she was not wrong to want his presence here. Perhaps he owed it to her and the North to protect her; perhaps it was even what Ned Stark would have expected of him.

Jon drifted off to an uneasy sleep, knowing a decision loomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that Jon and Sansa as characters are two people who have been deeply wounded, yet have an ability to persevere and survive the trauma that each has suffered, some of it shared. With that in mind, I don't think either would jump into anything rashly, but would only slowly come to an understanding. My thought processes for this piece are accompanied by a lot of visual memories of the TV show, so I am seeing each chapter almost like a camera sequence. 
> 
> After what happened in season eight, I think they would each have deep issues with the past actions of the other in spite of their mutual loyalty. Ultimately, they didn't betray each other, but they still have to get back to their common ground of being honorable people who are tied to house Stark before even considering what it could mean for the future.


	8. The Ride

“Lord Commander,” I trust you’ll have a safe return to Castle Black”, said Lord Hornwood.”Jon was making his way across the courtyard when he encountered the older man preparing to depart from Winterfell with Lady Hornwood and other members of their household. Their bold orange banner, displaying the head of a bull moose, was being unfurled in preparation for their trek back to Hornwood Hall.

“Are you off then, Lord Hornwood?A safe journey to you,” said Jon courteously.

“Aye, I’ll be back before too long, I expect." Hornwood appeared to be studying Jon carefully, as though weighing something in his mind.His gray hair fell in shortish waves around his face, and his jaw bore a jagged scar which he’d received in the Battle of the Bastards.

“Some of the Lords aren’t pleased that you’re down here,” he said finally.“Although most are happy with your sister on the Throne.”

“And you?”, asked Jon. “Have you decided what you think?”

“Sometimes what is right or wrong is not as clear as we’d like,” said Hornwood.“Therefore I prefer to be generous in my opinion, as I believe your father - Ned Stark - would have been. It’s true, the North needed your queen's armies.We’d all be walkingdeadmen without them.Still, it was a terrible, bloody affair down there,” he shuddered.He looked at Jon with kindly eyes, as if trying to decide the most merciful way to deliver a blow.

“Your sister,” Hornwood went on. “I’ve been told she doesn’t wish to marry, but she must. For the good of us all.You must speak to her.The Starks cannot be allowed to die out.”

“She wants what’s right for the North, Lord Hornwood,” said Jon.“She just needs a bit of time.You should reassure the other houses.Sansa plans to call an assembly in the coming months as well.”

“Very good, and you?What will the White Wolf do now?”

Jon was taken aback by his use of the appellation.

Hornwood motioned for Jon to follow him, and the two moved next to a nearby granite wall, where they would not be overheard.Each regarded the other warily as those around them bustled about on their morning errands. 

“I’m not a King now, Lord Hornwood, as you know.I gave up my crown for the good of the North.In truth, I’m not even a Stark by birth, “ said Jon.“I call the Queen sister because that is how we were raised by Ned Stark.”

“Aye, I heard the truth about you,” said Hornwood.“But you do have your direwolf, the sigil of the Starks.He fought for you during the Long Night, just as Robb's wolf would have done. ” The lord drew a deep breath. “You’ve proven you are a Wolf, Jon Snow.You made your choice in the Red Keep.Rhaegar Targaryen - only the Gods know what he was about when he wed our Lady Lyanna.”

"My wife,” Hornwood continued, “tells me the Queen was wounded grievously by the Bolton bastard.Call me bold, but you must hear me out."He drew his lined face closer to Jon’s

“She is your cousin and not your sister.What man would be better to wed her and thereby protect House Stark?”

Jon recoiled and straightened his shoulders to face Hornwood.“That’s madness,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “Our children would be Targaryens.”

“Not if you both renounce it. The Queen is the last of her line. Her children must be Starks.”

“Is this what the Lords are discussing amongst themselves, then?”, Jon asked, incredulous. 

“Only some of them,” said Hornwood.“There’s many men who would take advantage of the Queen.I watched the Stark children grow up, and saw your brothers come to a bad end. My intentions are upstanding, I assure you.”

“Lord Hornwood, I must see to something,” said Jon.He nodded to Lady Hornwood, who was supervising the loading of her baskets onto a wagon.The courtyard seemed surreal to Jon as he tried to digest what he had just heard.He walked off towards the stables, his black cloak billowing behind him, and his mind in turmoil.

Further along, he spotted Sansa standing by the castle's gate, with Ghost alongside her.Her white palfrey had been readied for their ride. His own horse was waiting as well, its bridle held by a groom. Jon slowed his steps.

“Jon, whatever is wrong?” Sansa asked,seeing the look on his face. She wore a dark brown riding dress and cape. Two direwolves with crowns were embroidered across the shoulders. Jon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

"Nothing, really," he replied, reaching out to pet Ghost. "Lord Hornwood was complaining about the food supplies."

"The cold appears to be lifting, that should improve soon," said Sansa.

"Did you sleep well?", He asked, as they mounted their horses. 

"I did. Yesterday was tiring." Jon and Sansa rode out the North Gate with several mounted guards following at a respectful distance. Ghost stayed close to Jon and Sansa's horses. They rode silently towards the edge of the Wolfswood, intending to cross over to some open fields. The air was brisk, but the sun was shining. Grass and pine needles were visible between bands of shallow snow. 

“It’s good to be out,” Sansa said finally.“The sun is so warm.”Jon glanced over at her.Her face was lifted towards the sun, her eyes closed in rapture, her red braid falling down her back.

“Sansa you’ll fall off your horse,” he chided her gently.She laughed.On their way to the open fields, they came upon a stone bridge that stood over a gully.The trees were tall and old; a few dead trees had fallen here and there; covered in moss.After they crossed the bridge, Jon stopped his horse and looked down into the gully.Sansa pulled her palfrey up alongside him and regarded him curiously.

“This is where we found the pups,” said Jon.“They were lying right over there with their mother’s body.”Ghost went down into the shallow ditch, sniffing about the leaves and stones. A trickle of water ran beneath the bridge.

“Really?,” said Sansa with wonder in her voice.“I remember that day.Father went off to execute a deserter with you and the others.You came back with the Direwolves.”

“Aye, this is the place,” he said.“There was a dead stag too, it had mauled the she-wolf. Father allowed us to take the pups when Bran Begged him.I almost missed Ghost - he was apart from the others.”

“Lucky you didn’t,” said Sansa.She looked down into the gully, then averted her eyes. Jon urged his horse forward, and they moved on.

“Have you ever wondered why there were six pups?,” Sansa asked him.”Doesn’t it seem strange?”

“There’s magic in the world, I suppose,” said Jon.“Though we often forget.”

“Magic, but people too. People who are bent on doing evil.”

“Aye,” said Jon.“We’ve learned all about that, haven’t we?”They came upon the open field finally.They rode a distance into the yellowish grass and dismounted. A few large boulders were strewn about, as if the place had once marked something. 

“Sansa, Lord Hornwood spoke of more than the weather,” said Jon, as they looked out over the hills. 

“Oh?”, she said to him.“I’m not surprised.Did he speak of me marrying?”Jon looked away from her.

“He did.But there was more.Some of the lords say that _we_ should marry - you and I,”Jon hesitated and turned back to face her, his eyes averted. “I’m telling you because you’ll be hearing it soon enough.”

“What!”, she exclaimed.Sansa looked at him in disbelief and went to sit on a nearby rock.“Did I hear you right? You and I?”

“Yes, you heard right.Of course you’ll refuse.”

Jon came and sat beside her. Sansa was still for some time holding her face in her hands, nonplussed. 

"I'm sorry, Sansa. I had to tell you."

"But why?", she asked finally. "What were his reasons?" 

Jon looked down at his hands, and hesitated, unsure of what he should say.


	9. Lady Stark

“I am just as stunned as you are,”Jon said finally.“I didn’t want to tell you, but I must.”

“It’s because we are cousins; because I carry Stark blood too.And because they believe I will act in the North’s interests.He seems to think that my having Ghost proves that I’m a Wolf and not a Targaryen. In truth, I can’t even remember everything he said.It’s madness!” Jon looked over at Sansa.She had at last taken her hands from her face and was gripping the edges of the stone, her knuckles white and her head bowed.She would not look at him. 

“It’s not a serious idea,” he said.“If one of them puts this proposal to you, you can quash itthen and there.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Sansa said finally.“That you came back to this. I know their ways; they talk and scheme constantly behind my back and amongst themselves. But it seems they have not forgotten you and what you did for them.That part is good.”

“I don’t think Hornwood’s intentions are malevolent,” Jon said.“No other suitors were mentioned.”

“Perhaps he isn’t malevolent, but a fool,” She said, looking into the distance, where clouds were rolling in.“I know what this all means,” she continued bitterly.“It means I’ll have to choose someone soon so as to satisfy the lords!”

Jon exhaled and stood up.He turned to look at her.“You’ll be able to hold them off for a time at least.But yes, eventually you will have to choose.”Jon wanted to say that perhaps she would find someone kind, someone she would grow to love, but deciding it was empty talk, he held his tongue.

“I will fulfill my responsibilities,” she sighed.“I have no choice.”Sansa stood up next to him and walked back towards their horses.“It’s time we returned.”

They rode back in silence over the same route as before, with Ghost walking alongside Sansa’s palfrey.When Jon dared to look over at her, he saw that Sansa rode with her head up, and her jaw set, as though determined to face any challenge that came her way. _Like Lady Stark,_ he thought.

The sun had become occluded by clouds, and a light rain began to fall as Winterfell came into view again.

“I almost forgot,” Sansa said suddenly.“I have to speak to you about Tormund Giantsbane.”


	10. Second Thoughts

“Where is Tormund Giantsbane?Do you know?”, Sansa asked Jon a few hours after their ride. They sat at a large table in the library. Scrolled maps had been set out for their use in the event that they would be required. Jon was sitting back in his chair examining a book that had been left out.It appeared to be a book about medicinal plants from what Sansa could see of the illustrations.Jon had changed out of the leather doublet he had worn earlier in favor of one made of heavy black linen.She noted that he looked drawn and tired, probably,she thought, the result of their earlier conversation in the field.He looked up suddenly as she spoke and replaced the volume on the table.

“He was last known to be at Ruddy Hall,”Jon replied.“He will be at Castle Black again sooner or later.What do you want with him?”

“As you know, the Last Hearth stands empty since the battle.I’ve been considering allowing a Wildling to establish his own house there.”

“Tormund?,”Jon folded his hands in front of him and looked a bit startled.

“He was loyal to you during the war and a reliable ally.After the inroads you made with the Wildlings, I thought this would be a further step in that direction - of making them our friends and allies. We need someone there who can hold that remote place."

“The Last Hearth is close to Castle Black and the Wall.It might be a good idea to help repopulate the area andmaintain a presence there.I could speak to him - when I go back,” said Jon.He dropped his eyes to the table.

“Yes, or you could send someone else to do it.”

“Sansa, I thinkit best that I return, at least for a time.It’s expected of me, and I have responsibilities there, regardless of what we decide in the long term.”

“And people may talk,”Sansa said grimly.

“That’s not what concerns me.I think we need time to think about it.And you haven’t heard from Bran.I can’t just drop everything without his knowledge.”

“The Watch has no real purpose now does it?”

“It’s an outpost and a liaison with the Wildlings, I suppose.“But yes, it’s deeper purpose is gone now.”Jon ran his fingers through his hair and looked down wearily.“Other than as a prison of sorts.”

“You shouldn’t be there,” Sansa said.An awkward silence fell between them.Jon rested his face against his hand, and looked towards the window.Muted light was filtering in through the drizzle outside.

“Have you…have you thought at all seriously about what Hornwood said?”Jon’s head snapped up, and he put his hand on the arm of his chair.

“Sansa.”He said her name as if it was a rebuke. "You can't be serious."

“Hear me out. _Please_.”She extended her palms upwards before folding them back onto her lap.Jon took a deep breath and fell silent.

“We’ve both been stripped of our illusions. Of what we thought our lives would be.Maybe we should pick up the pieces of whats left of our family.At least I _know_ you.You know me.We aren’t foolish children anymore.Well, _I_ was a foolish child once.Not so much you.We won’t have to _pretend_ to each other.”

“Pretend?”

“Pretend that life is like a crib tale.”Sansa looked Jon in the eye.“In both my marriages, I was a pawn.I won’t be one anymore.And you - you’ve never married,but your love for Daenerys almost destroyed you.We would do what we have to do for The North and for our House.Better that than to bring in outsiders.We trust each other, and we are cousins.Not brother and sister. Perhaps this notion isn’t as nonsensical as it first appeared.”

“You should love your betrothed, you deserve that,” said Jon.His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t believe in that kind of love anymore, do you?,” Sansa demanded.

Jon did not answer, but only looked past her to the rows of books and scrolls along the walls, as if he didn’t dareentertain her question.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. 

“We have to be smart.We have to protect our family.By staying together.Wewon’t hurt each other the way… the way we were hurt” said Sansa. 

“This would be a very serious step.Why have you changed your mind since I told you about it this morning?”

“Because I know you and I trust you.Father and Mother aren’t here anymore.We are House Stark now.We can decide for ourselves.”

“It would be too strange, Sansa.”

“No stranger than many other political marriages.Please,just consider it.”

“You asked me to consider returning here as your brother, and I’ve agreed to think on that.This is something else entirely.I have a duty to your father to protect you and do the right thing.”

‘It makes sense if you would just..”

“Just what?”, Jon scoffed.

‘…See that it does.You can return here, the lords will be pleased;they’ll have me married. Anda Stark heir eventually.Our children will have the Stark name.”Sansa got up from her chair and walked over to the window.The afternoon light was dimming; it would be time for supper soon.She turned back to Jon; her loose braid hanging over her shoulder.

“This matters.I wouldn’t be asking you if it didn’t.”

“Aye, then.I will think about it.But don’t breathe a word of this to anyone”. Jon looked down and wouldn't meet her eyes.

“I’ve decided to leave for The Wall again in two or three days time,” he added.We _both_ need time to think about this.I’ll see about the Last Hearth and Tormund as well.”Jon pushed his chair back and walked over to her. In the soft light of the window, Sansa could see the thin scars above his eyes.“I care about you, Sansa.My thoughts will be guided by that.”

“I know that.”She felt that a facade between them had dropped; something like during the days after they had taken back Winterfell.It had been a time of both elation and uncertainty;and oneof growing intimacy as well. That had been tested when Jon returned from the South with Daenerys. 

They left the library together, walking side by side, without touching.


	11. Two Songs

Sansa lay back in her copper tub, contemplating what had just happened.Her hair had been washed with the help of her maid, Eira, and was now hanging over the edge, drying. Rose petals from the glass gardens were floating on the steamy surface of the water.Her eyes were closed, and she was thinking of Jon.

True, she had been shocked at first when he told her of Lord Hornwood’s proposal.Part of it was shock over the suggestion of marrying someone whom she had always known as her brother; although not a brother in the sense Robb, Bran or Rickon had been.No, Jon had always been set apart; near to her yet always of a different caste somehow, and shunned by her mother.Jon had grown up alongside the Stark children and was loved especially by Robb, Bran and Arya, yet he was never quite one of them.He was a bastard, after all, and not accorded the same rank as trueborn children.

Another part of it was her aversion to the thought of marrying anyone at all.Her body still bore the marks of Ramsay’s depravity.Night after night he had come to her chamber, or summoned her to his, to take his pleasure and to hurt her in ways she could never have imagined.From their wedding night onwards, he had used her as some warped and twisted men might use a woman of the brothels.His aim was to humiliate the highborn daughterof Ned Stark by making her into his plaything.Sansa had gone to another place in her mind while he was brutalizing her. _That is how I survived_ , she thought. _That is how I was able to connect with Theon_. _That is how I was able to escape._ That place in her mind had been created by the love and wholeness of her family.It was a place of indistinct childhood recollections before she had been oldenough to understand the divisions that could make the world cruel, a place where innocence still reigned and where honor flourished.In her heart she knew Jon had once lived there too.

After she and Jon had returned from their ride, Sansa had sat alone in her chamber, dismayed by a future she knew was approaching.She would have to marry some high lord's son in order for House Stark to go on. There was no other choice. _She would have to marry._ She must freely give her body to a man.That man, in all probability, would not understand her.

Then she thought of Jon: _He is my brother, even though he is not._ The very words seemed like nonsense until Sansa considered that this could be Jon’s greatest strength as a spouse.What they had been able to forge for themselves as siblings had made a lasting bond between them and restored their family.Neither would ever betray the other, nor were their heads filled with fanciful notions of romance.True, Sansa had not yet dared to ask Jon for details about his relationship with Daenerys, but his face spoke volumes whenever her name was mentioned.

Eira knocked lightly on the door and entered discreetly.“Are you ready to dress, Your Grace?” Sansa awakened from her reverie. She stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel.Eira was the only person, besides Maester Wolkan, that she had allowed to see her body.She sat in a wooden chair in order for the maid to brush out her hair.

“It’s almost dry now, thanks to the fire,” said Eira, as she stepped over to Sansa’s bed, where her clothes had been laid out.“How is your back today, Your Grace?”

In truth, Sansa thought it was better.Most of the scars had now faded, although a few still remained that were red and angry.“I’ll skip the ointment for now”, said Sansa, worried that her dress would be damaged.Maester Wolkan had concocted a special mixture of roots and oils which he had deemed beneficial, as had been the Moon tea he had secretly given her each month during her marriage.Sansa had always bled on time, and every month she had thanked the Gods for not allowing Ramsay to give her a child.Eira helped her with her small clothes, and finally into a gown of raw silk, the color of dusky pink roses.It was one of the few shades Sansa would wear as a departure from her usual grays, browns and blacks.It had full sleeves that were subtly embroidered with fish scales, and a deep neckline embellished with flowers formed of the same material. She decided to wear a simple braid down her back again, with a few pearls pinned into the plaiting.She took a white woolen shawl to wear over her shoulders.

With Eira not far behind, Sansa made her way to the Great Hall. 

~~~

Sansa having left him to prepare for dinner, Jon went to take a walk in the Godswood.A fine mist was still falling and the air was chilly.Still, the green of the budding trees, and the thick and fertile scent of the earth were welcome things to him compared to the usual frigidness around The Wall.Ghost had come to meet him at the stone archway and now trotted ahead. The Heart Tree was laden with rain, its branches spreading out in a heavy canopy.Jon went and stood underneath it, looking at the now closed-up blossoms that still carpeted the ground there. His thoughts turned at once to Sansa and their latest conversation in the library.

Never could he have imagined that she would contemplate a marriage between the two of them.

He supposed the degradation of her previous union had driven her to find solace in his familiarity.She had even said as much to him: _We know each other._ That was true enough, and it was also true they were cousins rather than brother and sister.But Jon had always loved Sansa as his sister - albeit a distant one - at least until fate had restored them to each other at Castle Black.As they lived through andthen survived their quest to take back Winterfell, Jon’s love for the actual woman had deepened, but always in the context of their being siblings.Their relationship was no longer distant, but reborn in the crucible of their desperation. He had never denied that their triumph was largely because of her foresight.Yes, he agreed to fight and help raise an army, but Sansa had seen that it would not be enough. _She saw him, she knew him, she had saved him._

 _Why had Sansa still believed in him after Dany?,_ he mused to himself.She had been angry about his giving up the Northern crown, but had then attempted to get him crownedKing of the entire Seven Kingdoms. She had told him that she simply believed that he would be better after he had told her the truth about himself.Jon supposed that Sansa had feared he would meet the same fate as Robb - dead because of his choices.

Ghost abruptly emerged from a nearby thicket and ran offinto the growing darkness.“There you are,”Jon heard Sansa say with a little laugh.Suddenly sheappeared out of the mist, a woolen shawl draped over her head and shoulders and the hem of her dress damp from the grass. In one hand she held a small lantern. “Jon, aren’t you coming to eat?The guards told me you were here.”

She stepped under the heart tree with him and slipped the shawl off of her head.She was lovely in the dim light, her braid hanging over her shoulder; with pearls somehow woven into it.

Because of the day’s events between them, he found himself struggling to reply. 

“It’s too damp out here,” she said.“What are you doing?”Jon noted that Sansa appeared to be unaffected by their earlier conversation, or at least was pretending to be for his sake.

“I’ve forgotten how late it is, sorry,” he replied.“You might have sent someone after me instead of coming yourself. You’ll get cold.”

“That’s alright.I like the evening air.”

“You’ve just told me it’s too damp,” he scoffed.

“Have you been thinking?,” Sansa asked.“You always liked coming here for that.”

“Yes, I have been,”he admitted.“But I’m not sure I can talk about it now.”

“You can tell me anything.If you think it’s the wrong thing, you can tell me.I want you to.It won’t change things between us.Not after what we’ve been through.”

Somehow, the cool air and the freshness of Sansa’s presence had cleared his head.“Alright,” he said hesitantly.“I’ll tell you what’s on my mind.”


	12. Rain

Sansa placed her lantern on one of the large stones that lay under the tree and pulled her shawl tighter across her shoulders.Ghost came and nuzzled Jon’s hand before stepping near the pool to sniff at the moss there. 

“I understand,” Jon began, “at least some of what you must be feeling.I know that he hurt you.I saw it with my own eyes when we were in the Wolfswood that evening. But I can’t help but think that you haven’t really thought this through.We only first heard about it this morning. You can put off calling an assembly for several moons if you like.Who’s to stop you?”Jon looked at Sansa uncertainly. 

“So your answer is no?", she asked him.Her face was intent, but betrayed no emotion.

“I’m saying that your reasons may not be sound.You haven’t even considered anyone else.That I know of at least.Should you marry so you can avoid something that may not even happen?”

“I don’t understand,” said Sansa.Her head was tilted to one side and her lips were pursed.

“I mean that you may yet find someone among the Northern houses.”

“Jon.That’s what I want to avoid.So many were killed in the battle against the dead or else in King’s Landing.There are few contenders left alive.I don’t want a political match with a stranger.”Sansa’s voice was soft and even.“I know it would feel peculiar, but we would do what we have to -to serve our house.”

“You really think Northerners would support this, support me?” His voice was skeptical.

“Many of them are fickle, you know that as well as I do.They will forget about Daenerys Targaryen once they see that we’re prospering.They willremember the other things you’re known for, like the things Tormund spoke about during the feast after the battle.You remember, don’t you?He spoke about you coming back from the dead and riding a dragon.That is what impresses men.”Sansa spoke the last sentence sardonically and quickly clarified her words.“Of course the things he said are true.Many here still admire you deeply.And who in Westerosactually loved Daenerys?”

Her final words cut at him a bit as he remembered what Dany had told him at Dragonstone.“ _I don’t have love here_ , _I only have fear.”_ Jon shuddered as he recalled how she had resolved to rule by fear as a result.Something had changed in Dany once they had arrived at Winterfell, even before she learned the truth about him. Or perhaps something that was hidden from him had re-emerged.But Jon did not want to talk about it.

“I only mean that it’s you that was loved here,” Sansa added hastily.“And most still see you as a Stark.”Sansa reached out suddenly and grabbed his wrist.“But Jon, we’ve already spoken of all this, haven’t we?I wish you would tell me how you feel about this rather than what you think.Is the idea so awful to you?”She dropped his wrist and moved a step closer to him.Jon noticed that her hair was damp from the mist and the pearls in her braid had droplets of water on them.

“You’ve always been a sister to me,” he replied.“I have always loved you as a sister.How can that change?”For a moment Lady Catelyn’s face flashed before his mind’s eye and he recoiledin shock at the thought of what she would say to Sansa if she could hear her words to him.

“Whatever is wrong?”, Sansa asked him.“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”Jon reached to Sansa’s shoulders and lifted her shawl back over her head.

“We have to get back inside.It’s getting too dark now.”He picked up her lantern and took her arm as they started back towards the archway.Ghost walked ahead as though guarding them.

“It wouldn’t have to change completely, would it?” Sansa asked him.The darkness had almost completely fallen as the two of them walked on.An owl hooted from a nearby tree, and the rain came down a little harder.Jon glanced over at her.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean that’s the reason I like Lord Hornwood’s proposal.What we’ve shared is our strength. I’ll stop speaking of this if you like, but I want to know before you go away that you’re truly considering it and not saying so just to appease me,”Sansa stopped walking and pivoted to face him.The lantern he held illuminated her face and he thought he saw tearsforming in her eyes.

“Of course I am,” he said.“Did you think I was joking?”Jon remembered that his thoughts had seemed clear only a short time ago before Sansa had appeared at the Heart Tree.Now his mind felt confused by the course of their conversation. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this.And you may be right that this makes sense for the North and for House Stark.But it has to be right for you.” He took her arm again as they passed under the archway.“You are a queen now, and not Lady Stark.”

“I am also a wolf,” she said suddenly.As are you.Lord Hornwood is right.Ghost took to you the same as the others took to us.We should stay together, especially now that Arya and Bran are gone.”They had come to the inner courtyard and were nearing the keep.They stopped again as they noticed the guards standing at the entrance.Ghost looked back at them, his red eyes glowing in the lantern light.Sansa turned to Jon and placed her hand on the side of his face.Quickly, she kissed his forehead.

“We have to trust each other, as you once told me,”She said.It had happened so fast that Jon barely had time to react.They stood there looking at each other for a long moment before Sansa took her hand away.“Maybe we are fated to be together,”she added. Something began to unspool within him and he wondered whether he could see in accord with this new truth she was unfolding. _Was it even real? Was it even right?_ The rain continued to fall, but they stood as though frozen, water dripping down their faces.Jon felt unable to break away from her gazeuntil Sansa finally interrupted his thoughts.As if to rescue him, she tilted her head to the side and said, “You’re soaking wet, let’s get inside.”


	13. Lord Royce

In truth, Jon was glad to head inside to the great hall.He had learned the hard way that Sansa could argue very effectively when determined to do so, and usually to her opponent’s detriment.Even Arya had once told him that she believed Sansa to be the most intelligent person she knew.At the time, he had thought it to be an exaggeration, but now he was not so certain.Jon recognized that he himself tended to allow hisheart to rule his decisions, and that sometimes the heart could be deceived.He knew Sansa was not infallible, but she did seem to have a true talent for seeing into the minds of others and anticipating their actions.

Now she had used his own words to her after they had taken back Winterfell, but he pondered on her meaning.Did she mean that he had failed to trust her in the past, when she had tried to warn him about going to Dragonstone?Or had she meant that he should trust her instinct that a marriage between them would turn out to be the prudent course of action, given the circumstances?Jon could well see that Sansa needed family backing her as Queen in the North, and that he might play a part in that.What was more difficult to divine or to fathom was whether she was right in extending that seeming necessity into a permanent uniting of their blood. Their children would be Starks in name, but they would also carry his Targaryen blood, no matter how he felt about it, or how many times Sansa insisted that he was a wolf.Above all, he wanted to do the right thing for her and for the North. He wanted to continue Ned Stark’s example.His own happiness had mostly stopped mattering to him since the Red Woman had raised him; or perhaps it happened when he’d had to burn Ygritte on a pyre he’d built with his own hands.It had been his fate to weigh his actions in terms of a monumental threat, and he believed the fallout would never leave him.Even when he was ranging North with the Wildlings, who mostly could not care less about what had happened in King’s Landing, his thoughts were disturbed by his memories.

In some respects he imagined Sansa’s life to have been the same, and that was why she was thinking as she was.To make the world better, first, one had to be in a position to do so; and second one must put most personal considerations aside.One must change from pawn to player; and Sansa had told him she would not be a pawn again.All other things being equal, Jon could believe they had the steel in them to put the North first, but did that mean they should join themselves?Sansa seemed undisturbed with the prospect of the two of them sharing a bed, which if he were honest, he found to be the most daunting notion in all of this.Somehow she appeared able to accept him in that role, yet the thought of marrying others had driven her to tears after she’d spoken toLord Cerwyn that day.How was he to bridge that impediment for her? Sansa was as beautiful to him as a swan on the water or a mother holding her babe.Not as a lover.

A table had been set for only five; a smallish one placed adjacent to the hearth.Lord Royce had arrived from the Vale that very evening, and he now stood near the fire chatting with the young Lord Mazin and his sister Lady Ursa.Royce, tall and gray, looked a bit haggard from his ride. Lord Mazin was speaking to him in his usual animated manner.Ursa, a blonde girl of fifteen or so, stood nearby listening intently.When Sansa and Jon appeared, they curtsied and bowed to the Queen.

‘Lord Royce I trust you had a pleasant journey,” said Sansa, smiling warmly. She and Jon had hastily toweled themselves off upon entering the keep, though her hair and dress were still slightly damp from the Godswood. 

“I did, Your Grace.”Royce turned to Jon and nodded formally.“And I trust you are well, Lord Commander.”

“I am,” Jon replied.“The Queen tells me she feels fortunate to have the benefit of your council.”Royce smiledpolitely and nodded again.

“Her Grace is too kind, I’m sure.”

Jon knew Lord Royce had been protective of Sansa since she had first encountered him at the Vale.Like Jon, he had never cottoned to Littlefinger and was enraged to discover that the latter had brokered her marriage to Ramsay Bolton.No doubt he would have an opinion on Jon’s presence at Winterfell.

Sansa motioned for everyone to be seated.She and Jon sat opposite the three guests. The Mazins looked a bit like fish out of water next to the imposing figure of Lord Royce, who as the North’s greatest ally, had come to Winterfell to advise Sansa on the upcoming assembly andformation of her small council.A good meal was presented by the servants: a green salad with raisins, aurochs with roasted leeks, buttered turnips and a cheese pie.Bread, warm from the ovens was brought to the table, along with wine or ale to wash it down.

Lord Royce looked at the two of them a tad curiously, though not unkindly.“Have you been out walking in this dreary weather?”, he asked.Jon glanced over at Sansa and smiled pleasantly.Her face was slightly flushed from the cool air, which only served to enhance her beauty.

“Yes, my Lord.We were walking in the Godswood, and I’m afraid the rain got the better of us, “ She said lightly.

“I pray you don’t fall ill, your Grace,” Royce responded with mild concern.He glanced over to Jon, perhaps with some reproach in his eyes.

“Oh, not at all,” said Sansa.“I had my wrap with me, and we weren’t out for long.”

“My Queen, why not have one of your maids bring you a shawl,” said Lady Ursa a bit fawningly. The girl was wearing a yellow dress; her braids wound crown-like around her head.

“Yes, yes,” Lord Mazin chimed in.It would be most unfortunate for you to fall ill.”Lord Royce motioned with his eyes to one of the serving girls who then went to dispatch a maid to Sansa’s chambers.

“Perhaps you should employ some ladies around you, your Grace.As was the custom in King’s Landing,” said Lord Royce.

“There hasn’t been time for those considerations yet, I’m afraid,” said Sansa.As you know, most of our resources have gone to restoring Winterfell.We are only now getting around to creating a small council and other matters. In fact, I’m looking forward to hearing your advice.”

Royce bowed his head deferentially as he took a bite of cheese pie.“I know you don’t like to have a fuss made around you, but perhaps some changes are needed that would befit your new station.But enough of that for now! This is a splendid meal. We must all enjoy it.”

The meal wore on, with small talk made about the Night’s Watch, the goings on at the Vale, and Lord Hornwood’s recent visit.Eventually, the Mazins got up to retire, with Lady Ursa complaining of a headache.More wine was poured after they left, and the conversation turned to the upcoming assembly.

“When will you send word out about the gathering?”, Lord Royce asked Sansa.The main courses had been cleared and they were now eating apple tarts.

“That’s one of the things I’ve wanted to speak with you about,” said Sansa.“I think it will yet be several months.I’d like to present my plans for the Last Hearth, as well as some other matters that are not yet settled.I hope you will see fit to attend when the time comes.” Sansa glanced briefly at Jon, then back to Lord Royce. 

“There’s something I feel I must bring to your attention,” said Royce.“but perhaps it should wait until tomorrow.”He looked pointedly at Jon.

“Please speak freely,” said Sansa.“Jon is part of my family.” She folded her hands in her lap, as though bracing herself for what would follow. Jon looked pensively into his goblet of wine.

“There’s been talk of you choosing a husband,” Royce began.“The Lords are concerned that the Stark name should continue, especially now that you are Queen in the North.” 

“I haven’t made a choice,” said Sansa. 

“No. That’s why they wish for you to make one.” Roycelowered his eyes, as though embarrassed to be speaking of such matters.“There’s something else,” he added, his voice reluctant.“It may be complete nonsense, but it’s been said there’s talk in some quarters of the two of you marrying.He picked up his goblet and drained what was left of his ale,before resting his eyes briefly on Sansa and Jon.

“We have heard of this as well, Lord Royce,” said Sansa nonchalantly.Jon attempted to maintain an indifferent demeanor as he studied Lord Royce’s face.

“My advice, Your Grace, is that you endeavor to make an announcement as soon as feasible.I believeyour cousin, Robyn Arryn may be a suitable choice.As Lord of the Vale, he always speaks highly of you, and the two of you are well acquainted.”

“Lord Royce, Robyn is several years younger than me.”Sansa removed her napkin from her lap, and placed it on the table.“And quite immature.”She looked past him and off into the distance. 

“For someone of your station, the considerations for choice of husband are broader in some respects than they would be for the common people.And narrower too, I suppose,” said Royce.

Sansa looked down at her plate and then directly at Lord Royce.“You are quite right, and I thank you for your council.But I must make a choice that is pleasing to me.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”He nodded politely to Sansa.“I am only pointing out the political realities.”Sansa bowed her head and folded her hands in her lap.

“Lord Royce, the Queen is tired, as I know you must be after your journey,” said Jon, noticing her unease.“Perhaps it’ would be best to meet again tomorrow.” Sansa rose from her seat, and the two men hastily followed suit.

“My apologies, Lord Royce,” she said. “Perhaps I am a bit fatigued from my walk after all.We must speak more tomorrow.I trust you found your rooms to your liking?”

“Indeed I have, I bid you both good night, then.” Sansa drew her shawl around her shoulders and walked a bit closer to the hearth as if to warm herself.Lord Royce bowed and nodded before strolling out of the great hall and towards his chambers.

“Did he upset you?” Jon asked her. 

Sansa looked thoughtfully into the fire for a moment, as Jon hung back near the table, one hand on the back of his chair.She turned to face him.“So it’s true what Lord Hornwood told you.There has been talk about us.”

“He didn’t have anything much to say about it,” said Jon.

“Not with you sitting next to me,” she said with a little shrug.“I’m sure to hear more tomorrow.”

Jon said nothing.He hadn’t seen Robyn Arryn for many years, and only remembered him as a child, a spoilt one at that.It wasn’t surprising, however, that Lord Royce would put his name forward.The Vale had allied with House Stark against the Boltons and had fought with them against the Night King.Lord Royce had taken Sansa’s side against Littlefinger and then served her well in Jon’s absence from Winterfell. From his point of view, a marriage between Sansa and Robyn Aaryn would strengthen the Vale’s alliance with the North.

“Robyn Arryn, like you, is my cousin,” she said to him. 

“And?”Jon said softly.“Are you going to tell him what you’ve told me?Would that be wise?”

“Lord Royce would keep my council.”

“That might depend on whether he’s speaking for Robyn Arryn.”

“I don’t think he would be.Robyn is far too callow to be proposing this himself. I saw him at Kings Landing after it fell.No.More likely Lord Royce is only thinking its an advantageous alliance.”Sansa took a deep breath and walked back towards Jon.

“What did you mean, Sansa, when you told me we have to trust each other earlier?”He asked her.“Were you talking about mistakes you think I’ve made?”Sansa stopped when she was almost close enough to touch him and sighed.The shawl the maid had brought had slipped hallway off her shoulder, revealing the tiny fabric roses that were sewn onto her dress. 

“I think you forgot who you are, “ she said finally.


	14. Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa discuss the past.

“Forgot who I am?”, he asked.

“When you bent the knee,”Sansa replied.She pulled her chair out and sat down again.

Jon turned his chair to face hers and sat as Sansa poured wine into both their goblets.He was not certain he wanted to hear what she would say next, but there was no choice but to listen.“I remember what you said to me before I left, about Robb and Father.Is that what you want to talk about?”

“You were right about the Umbers and the Karstarks.Do you remember?”, she asked him.Jon nodded.It seemed like it had happened a hundred years ago.

“You didn’t think so at the time,” He said wryly.

Sansa took a sip from her goblet.“We needed to unite people, to stand together. Not everyone could see that or what it meant, but you did.It was a mistake to undermine you.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Sansa,”he bowed his head and looked down into his goblet.Jon thought of the days before the raven had arrived from Tyrion, summoning him to Dragonstone.Sansa had been at his side through it all and had then ruled in his stead during his absence.

“I learned something from you.I was bitter about what happened to our family; about Ramsay.But you were able to put that aside.”She sighed and looked into his eyes earnestly.“I’m not telling you this to disparage you.”Sansa put her goblet down and placed her elbow on the table, her slender wrist resting on the edge.

“You did what you thought was best at the time, bending the knee - don’t let it destroy you.”Jon took a deep breath upon hearing her words and looked stricken.His eyes roamed past her to the far end of the hall, and then down again to his wine.“You are not the only one that’s ever loved the wrong person.”

Jon could not meet her eyes.In the aftermath of what had happened, he was no longer certain whether his and Dany’s relationship should have been called love by either of them.That Dany had been brave, no one could ever deny; but had she been whole?Jon had seen her as that when she’d sacrificed her Dragon to save him and the others North of the Wall.Yes, he had seen with his own eyes her imperious tendencies, but he had thought that was a compensation for what she'd suffered in the past.She had, after all, been at the mercy of a brother who had sold her to a Dothraki Warlord in hopes of reinstating his own claim.Her rise, in spite of everything that had befallen her, had clearly inspired those who had followed her to Westeros. They had insisted to him that she was good and just.Tyrion was not the only one who had believed in her, although he was surely among the most intelligent.But Sansa had not believed. 

“I loved the wrong person too.It was what lead me to King’s Landing,” She told him. 

‘You were little more than a child then,” Jon scoffed.“And most girls are brought up to believe in songs of love.You used to sing them.”

“Yes, any one of us can be deceived.”Sansa cocked her head to one side.“Is that what makes love so dangerous?I suppose it is.” 

“I suppose,” he replied.Jon picked up his goblet and finished his wine, then placed it back on the table.Sansa reached over and touched the tips of his fingers.

“When I told you I believed in you, I meant it.And hearing the truth about your name didn’t change that.I knew who you were; Arya and Bran knew who you were.No matter what you decide; what we decide; that won’t change.I’m sorry father hid the truth from you for all those years, that was wrong.”

“I think he did mean to tell me, but then…,” his words trailed off.“He never got the chance.”

“Yes, I think he would have,” said Sansa.She pushed her braid behind her shoulder.“It was the right thing, and so he would have.But who we are doesn’t depend only upon our name.Theon once told me what you said to him.It was just before The Dead came.He told me you said he didn’t have to choose between being a Stark and a Greyjoy.”

“Aye, I told him that at Dragonstone before he went off to save his sister.”

“Sounds like something a Stark would do,” Sansa said. 

“That’s why he did it, I suppose; and why he helped you,” Jon pondered. “I told him as much -that he had never lost Father.”

“Neither did you,” Sansa told him. 

“I fought on the wrong side,” said Jon.“In King’s Landing.I should have seen what was coming.You did.”

“I didn’t, not exactly,” she told him. “But maybe you should heed your own words to Theon.”

“Is this about us again?That seems to be where the conversation was turning before we went in for dinner.That I should trust your judgement.You do have good judgement, Sansa. You’ve proven that.”

Sansa rose from the table and turned towards the hearth again.It had burned down to glowing embers.In the dim light she looked otherworldly.“What do you think will happen if you don’t marry me?,” She asked him suddenly.“Do you think either of us will be happy?”

Jon honestly didn’t know.He no longer thought of his own life in terms of whether or not he was happy.He did value the peace and quiet of ranging in the North, of living simply and being far away from the turmoil and ugliness of the past few years.The future had seemed to him to hold more of the same. Exile was perhaps the best he could hope for.And Sansa?He had supposed she would rule well and find someone to unite with, but never himself.Perhaps she would find some happiness in that.That is, if the world they knew had truly changed for the better with Bran and her holding power in Westeros.

The alternative she spoke of, the two of them together - would that bring a kind of happiness?

Jon laughed softly.“You’ve told me you don’t believe in love, or is that not what you meant by happiness?” 

Sansa didn’t answer him right away.She stood in the dimness considering his question.“I don’t believe in foolish love,” she said finally.“But I know that I love you.”

He got up from his seat and went to her.She stood there silently her lips slightly parted, her face pale.“I’m sorry, Jon,” she said.“I know I seem broken.” He held out his arms and they embraced silently. Everything seemed to slow down; he felt the softness of her breath on his neck; her hair smelled of roses. 

“If anyone is broken, it’s me, “ he whispered.“Not you.”He backed up and held her face in his hands, they gazed into each others eyes, Sansa looking as though she was about to cry.The temptation to kiss her on the lips was overwhelming; instead he only held her tight again. It seemed to him they were enveloped in a world of softness, but of sadness too.


	15. Heart and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon decides.

Sansa sat at her dressing table, studying her hair in the mirror. It had been arranged with Eira’s help. She wore it down, with plaits coiled neatly at the back of her head.Today she had chosen a gray dress and wide leather belt.A maid brought a pot of mint tea with plates ofdried fruit, bread and eggs. With her head aching slightly, Sansa said she would take the meal in her solar. 

As she sipped her tea and picked at her breakfast, her thoughts turned to the previous evening in the Great Hall.She felt her face flush at the memory of what had occurred.Not that anything untoward had really happened.It was mostly the shock of her own feelings that gave her pause; that and the way Jon had looked at her.A nagging question crept into her mind - was it possiblethere had been a hint of something like this between them in the past that they’d buried, or was this totally new and brought on by their talk of marriage yesterday?

Of course, were they to wed, they would be free to have such feelings.Marrying Jon, after all, would not be like either of her other marriages.One had been forced upon her when she was barely more than a child.She had been fortunate that Tyrion had proved to be gallant.The Bolton marriage had been her own choice, at least ostensibly.Butthen she’d been delivered to a monster. Even before she had fled King’s landing, Sansa had divested herself of her past foolishness and dreams of courtly romance.Especially after her hopes of marrying Loras Tyrell had been dashed by the Lannisters. 

There was a soft knock on the door and Eira announced that Jon was waiting in the hallway to speak to her.Sansa had a momentary sense of panic, but she suppressed it and nodded to Eira to let him enter. _After all, how many times have we spoken together in my solar_ , she told herself.

She smoothed her hair and straightened her shoulders as he came through the door and nodded to her.Jon was wearing his black leather doublet from the Watch again, although it looked to have been cleaned and polished since his arrival.Underneath was a dark green tunic and matching cravat. His dark hair was pulled back off his face.

“Sit,” she told him.“Have something to eat.”She nodded to Eira, who brought another cup and plate from the sideboard.Jon sat in the chair nearest her as Eira poured out more tea.Sansa found it difficult to read his face, which wore a serious but not unpleasant expression.As soon as Eira left the room, he turned to her.

“We have to speak.”

“Go on.”Sansa put her cup on the table and folded her hands in front of her as she watched Jon tear a piece of brown bread from the loaf put before him.He chewed it thoughtfully and then took a sip of tea.

“Aren’t you well?,” He asked her.

“Yes,only my head aches a bit from the wine,” she replied.“I have to meet with Lord Royce today, so I woke a bit early. 

“Drink your tea, that will clear your head.”Sansa took another sip and put her cup back on the table. 

“I spoke with the men today.We’ll ride for Castle Black in two days time like I told you.”Jon glanced over to her before reaching for some dried apples.“I’ll see about Tormund when I get there and I’ll send a Raven with any news.”He speared a piece of fruit with his knife before looking up again.Sansa sat in silence, rubbing her temple with her fingers.

“I see.” She said finally. “And the rest?”

“I’ll be thinking about the rest, and probably little else.” 

“I know you need time, but it can’t wait forever.”

“It’s not for lack of caring about you, or Winterfell,”Jon said.“You know that, Sansa.I don’t want us to do something we’ll come to regret.”He put his knife down and rested his hand on the table. “Will you speak to Royce about it?”

“I don’t think there’s a choice,” said Sansa.“He’s sure to bring it up again.”Jon nodded, his eyes serious.“And why would I regret it?”, she added. “ After what’s already happened to me?People enter into arranged marriages every day.”He looked at her warily.

“Are you afraid we can’t be together?” She asked him.

“Whatdo you mean?”Jon studied his hands.

“You know what I mean.” 

Jon sighed and took another piece of bread.“It’s not that we can’t but whether we should. And Bran would have to be involved.I was sent to the Wall.This can’t be an impulsive decision.”

“Yes, and that’s why I’d like some sort of answer from you before you ride North.I would have to set some things into motion.As for Bran, even if he didn’t agree, how would it matter?Castle Black abuts the North and not the Six Kingdoms.”

“You shouldn’t be rash,”Jon said.

Sansa grasped his hand across the table.“Do I have your leave to speak to certain people about this and to send a raven to Bran?”Her blue eyes bore into his.Jon took a deep breath and then nodded.

“Send your raven.”Satisfied, Sansa withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair.Looking at Jon, she was reminded of his reaction when he’d agreed to try and take Winterfell back from the Boltons.As if he saw the logic in her arguments, yet scruples remained in his mind. 

“You’ve said your misgivings are about me,” she told him.‘You needn’t feel that way.”

“I must look at it in that way.You’ve told me you see me as a Stark.It’s my responsibility to think on it carefully.Not only about what I might like.” 

“Yes, father would have expected that of both of us.”Jon visibly reacted to her mention of Ned Stark.He raised his head to look at her and slowly nodded his agreement.“But he isn’t here anymore, except for how he lives on in us,” she added.“He would have wanted us to put House Stark first. I think you see that as well. We can’t let our house die.”

“Aye, that is why I’ve agreed for you to send the Raven.Not because I want to be here again.It has to be because its the right thing to do.” 

“I trust you,” Sansa told him. 

“Why?” Jon askedher.

“In your heart you are a wolf.”Sansa put her hands on the arms of her chair.“You yourself don’t doubt that, do you?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it what’s in your heart that matters?Its what matters to me.The rest will work itself out.” 

~~~

_In your heart you are a wolf._

Afterwards, in his chambers; Jon thought of her words. He remembered how his hand had burned long ago at Castle Black, when the Wight had attacked Commander Mormont. He thought of his mysterious bond with Ghost.He even recalled his conversation with Theon at Dragonstone. 

Does _destiny lie in one’s blood or in one’s heart?_ He mused to himself. __ He had clearly told Theon the answer was the latter.But did he still believe it?It was all so complicated, and perhaps to his own detriment, he had often been more fighter than thinker.On the beach at Dragonstone, Lord Varys had told him, _Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin_.He had not wanted to consider the implications at the time. His mind had been on his obligation to fulfill his promise to Dany, and if he were honest with himself, on getting her away from the North.

 _I’ve never been a Stark._ He had said it to them in the Godswood, and they’d denied it.Had he really believed it?By his own words to Theon, he should not have; yet blood did count for a great deal, and that is why he’d told them the truth.For a time, his heart had been divided against itself, but in the end, he’d made his choice. 


	16. Wolf Dreams

The heart tree looked different in daylight.Last night’s rain had lifted to reveal a clear morning.The sun was warming its sodden red leaves, and the jonquils underneath were slowly unfurling their blossoms.The impassive face was dripping with streaks of red sap, lending it an eerie aura of aliveness.The stones, the moss, the darkish pool seemed pristine, ancient, and sacred all at once. 

Ghost stood gazing into the pool as it was being disturbed by random droplets falling from the boughs.Jon was there next to him wearing a black cloak with Longclaw strapped to his waist. Sansa would be occupied with Lord Royce this morning, so he’d decided to walk the grounds.His mind raced with the implications of what he had told Sansa.Essentially, he had agreed to marry her if certain conditions fell into place. 

He absentmindedly stroked Ghost’s head and drew a deep breath.What could be hoped for at this point was either minor pockets of opposition from the Lords and people of the North, or else that the entire notion would be quickly put to rest.Anything more drastic or violent would only cause problems for Sansa and possibly the spread of damaging gossip.For Sansa it might even mean the necessity of marriage to someone whom she considered to be abhorrent.Jon wondered again whether Sansa was able to tolerate him precisely because of their relationship as siblings, or whether there was something more to it.Of course, their bond as Starks was undeniable, through both their commitment and their blood, though their blood tie was not what they had always believed it to be. 

They would have to be sworn to each other before this very tree, he mused to himself.Sansa had told him of her wedding to Ramsay when they spoke at Castle Black; how Theon had representedHouse Stark as Ned Stark’s ward during the ceremony by walking Sansa to this sacred place.He shuddered as he imagined what Ramsay had done to her and how it had hurt her.How was that to be overcome by the two of them?He had known only Ygritte and Dany; both now dead, one of them by his own hand.His past as a lover was not free of stains. It was true that Northerners had mostly despised Dany, and had not shed any tears for her when she had died.Some among them even viewed him as a hero of sorts for having killed her, yet the taint of being a kinslayer would never completely leave him. He thought of the Lannisters, both Tyrion and Jaimie, who had gone on to function in important roles for their houses and now even beyond that for Tyrion.Nevertheless, many would view either man as being forever cursed by his deeds.

Sansa did not deserve that, especially after all she had suffered.Jon remembered the night before, the two of them crushed against each other in an embrace and Sansa’s bright eyes brimming with tears.The softness of her body and the warmth of her breath.He had almost succumbed to an impulse he had not known he possessed.Was it right to even imagine himself with her? 

The face of the Weirwood regarded Jon solemnly.It had already born witness to so much of his life and Sansa's.Was Sansa to be wed before it again, but this time to someone with whom she shared childhood memories?Someone whose Direwolf had been the brother of her own?Should he dare even picture it? Sansa could no longer dream with Lady as he still dreamed with Ghost.He wondered whether his staying here with her would restore a protection that she’d lost. Perhaps that was at the root of what Lord Hornwood had said to him. _Will it please the Gods?_ He said aloud, before he could even think about it.The face only looked at him without changing, its drops of blood red sap seeping slowly downwards.Any answers it held remained hidden.

At that moment, Ghost turned his head and Jon noticed Maester Wolkan approaching from the stone arch at the edge of the Godswood, his chain clanging softly and his heavy linen robes fluttering in the breeze.

“Lord Commander, the Queen wished for me to inform you that her raven to King Bran has been dispatched,” said Wolkan.He bowed his head, as if to depart.

“Thank you Maester Wolkan,” said Jon.“May I ask you a question?”Wolkan stepped forward and nodded. 

“While you were here with the Boltons, did you treat the Queen for injuries?”Wolkan’s lined face sank and his shoulders drooped.

“I have seen the contents of the Queen’s scroll.Might I ask if this is the reason for your query?”

“Queen Sansa has told me some of what happened here during her marriage, and I once saw some wounds on her shoulder.She is stoic by nature and I fear I’m unaware of the full extent of her hardships.” 

“Her physical injuries are healed to a large degree.Whether her mind is still disturbed sometimes is a different matter, I’m afraid.The vileness of Ramsay Bolton knew no bounds.”The Maester hesitated for a moment and looked at Jon regretfully.“I did what I could to relieve Lady Sansa’s distress, but I fear it was insufficient.Thankfully no child was born to her.I brought her the moon tea every month to prevent it, as she asked of me.”

Jon’s face darkened at the thought of what Sansa had endured.“The Queen is a strong woman, Lord Commander, in spite of what befell her.”He bowed once more and walked back towards the castle, his expression somber.

~~~

Relieved that her meeting with Lord Royce had come to an end, Sansa made her way outside to the battlements to take the air.Lord Royce had been surprisingly agreeable when she’d told him that a marriage between herself and Jon was under serious consideration by the two of them.Lord Royce was accustomed to taking an almost paternal interest in Sansa ever since he’d seen her at the Vale; given her fatherless status. After he’d been instrumental in taking back Winterfell, his support had been steadfast and his advice sound.Although the Vale and House Royce were aligned with the Six Kingdoms, he was a valuable advisor and ally to the North.He’d even admitted that Robyn Arryn would be an unsuitable match because of his immaturity.

Her scroll to Bran had been almost perfunctory.For Jon’s sake, she had asked for a formal rescinding of his sentence. But in truth, she doubted that Bran would show any interest in ever enforcing that sentence. 

The skies were bright as she watched the Raven fly away until it was tiny in the distance.It was almost a relief to have this step decided and over with.After all, Jon was someone she could trust.If they indeed were each “broken”, as they’d professed last night, perhaps they might heal each other.She mused to herself whether it was proper to look upon a prospective husband without fanciful notions and girlish anticipation. Was it even fair to Jon?In truth, her love for him was somehow about their solidarity.She was not blind to his beauty, but for her _Jon was Jon,_ as she had once told Brienne at Castle Black.

Once he had kissed her chastely right here at this very spot, she thought to herself.And last night he had almost kissed her again.She was certain that Jon returned her sense of solidarity, but what did he feel beyond that?If they were to marry they must find a way to build something together on their shared childhood foundation from which their new affinity had unfolded.

She turned and flinched as he suddenly appeared on the far end of the battlement, walking toward her.“They told me you were up here,”he said.He was now close enough for her to see the faint scars over his eyes as he smiled and nodded to her. 

“I needed some air,” she told him.“The raven has been sent to Bran.”

“Aye, they told me that, too.”

"Where were you, in the Godswood again? Is that where Wolkan found you?"

"He did. We spoke of the Boltons as well." 

Sansa lowered her eyes, almost as though ashamed.“Jon,” she said.“I’ve been unfair to you by making everything about the sense of duty we feel for our house. The truth is, I’m certain we can be something more to each other if we give ourselves the chance to find it. I’m sorry.I suppose you will have to be patient with me,” she added, biting her lip in consternation.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. They stepped toward each other and embraced, her face buried in the fur of his cape. 

“I know you won’t,”she said finally.

They pulled apart for a moment. Jon’s face blurred as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

“Is this alright?” he asked.When her eyes met his, the world went silent.She nodded slowly.He kissed her gently on the cheek, then she turned her face to meet him.His lips were soft and yielding; their taste like salt.She drew back and they looked at each other. 

All the reasons she had given herself for their being together, as good as they were, retreated within this new dimension.A liquid feeling seemed to surround them, surprising in its intensity. “I am not experienced in this,”She said finally and with doubt in her voice.

Jon nodded, his face veiled by something that looked like embarrassment.“There’ll be time,” he told her. “Let us see what the coming days bring.”

They turned and looked out over the battlements, as they had many times before. 


	17. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon talk late at night.

_Locked into her room, she reclined on the bed in a thin shift, her hair disheveled.A frigid draft wafted through the half-open shutters.She pulled her blankets up to her chin, knowing he would come again that night and hurt her.Where was Theon?Where were her father’s loyal servants, where was someone who would help her?A key turned in the lock, and she shrank back against the headboard, trying to make herself smaller.Maester Wolkan let himself in, looking surreptitiously behind him as he closed the door.His face paled as he saw the bruises on her arms._

_“Lady Sansa, drink this,” he said drawing an earthenware cup from his robes. “You must drink it to bring on your moonblood.”As soon as she raised the cup to her lips, the door burst open to reveal Ramsay. He smiled maniacally, and advanced towards them_. _She cried out in terror._

It was a dream that often disturbed her sleep.Sometimes it would be Maester Wolkan with the moon tea, sometimes she was begging Theon to light the candle in the broken tower.In the worst of them, Ramsay would be standing over her, ready to strike her, cut her, or worse, rape her.There was never any escape.She would wake in a panic with sweat beading her forehead.Suddenly she would be back in her chambers, safe enough, but withher peace destroyed.

Tonight she had not dreamed; she was in bed awake and tossing.Most of the marks Ramsay left on her skin had healed, but she knew her soul had not. In truth it was not Ramsay alone who permeated her thoughts, but every evil deed which had been done to her family since her father had been called to King’s Landing.Her parents, her brothers; gone.Her sister made into a killer, and her own innocence shattered.Monsters like the Boltons and Joffrey could only be quelled by their own annihilation.But their evil must not take root in the one who did the annihilating. 

Sansa rose from her bed and lit a candle; perhaps she should ask Maester Wolkan for a sleeping draught.She put on her robe, and opened the door in hopes of finding a maid or a guard to fetch him.Instead she found Ghoststretched out in the middle of the corridor. The great wolf rose when he spotted her, and followed her toward the stairwell. 

“Where is Jon?” she asked him curiously.Usually Ghost spent the night either in Jon’s chamber or the stables, as far as she knew. The guard posted at the stairwell went off to find Maester Wolkan.Sansa doubled back past her chambers to Jon’s door and knocked on it softly.There was no response even after a second try.She wandered back to her own door and went inside to await Maester Wolkan with ghost following behind her.Sansa noticed that his paws were muddy, as if he’d just come in from the yards.She nudged him away from her carpet and went to fetch a basin and some water.

“Here boy, let’s clean you up,”she told him gently.He lifted his huge feet compliantly and allowed her to wipe them off with a rag.By the time she’d finished, the water was dark and cloudy.Ghost went over and settled near the hearth’s glowing embers.Because of his size, he looked ludicrous stretched out there, among the chairs and embroidered cushions.Sansa sighed to herself, remembering the softness of Lady’s fur and her gentle demeanor.Hadn't all her troubles begun when she’d lost her?She remembered Jon’s words the other day about magic being in the world, when they’d stopped by the stone bridge.The serendipity of the Direwolves being found there had to be part of that magic. _But my wolf is gone._ She put the water and the rag aside and sat down at the table, awaiting her draught.Sleep would be a welcome thing after her long day of speaking with Lord Royce and then entertaining him and the others at dinner.Jon had sat quietly throughout, perhaps because of what had been said on the battlements, perhaps because he was contemplating his return to Castle Black.That was making her anxious, but she knew it was crucial that he speak to Tormund Giantsbane and also for him to put things in order there before his likely return to Winterfell.

Lord Royce would be sure to make some discrete remarks and inquiries; he had told her as much.He believed there was no need to announce her intentions at the assembly.If the marriage were to take place, it was best to make the announcement prior.“Why give the few who may oppose it a voice?” he had said when she’d mentioned her concerns.Lord Royce thought that the marriage would be good for House Stark because of the catastrophe that had befallen the North when the Night King came through The Wall.The North and its houses must rebuild, and with the best men available.What good was Jon Snow at the Wall now that there was nothing to defend it from?Bran had done the best he could under the circumstances, according to Lord Royce.With Greyworm and his army in King’s Landing when Dany died, Jon had been lucky to get away with his life.ButGreyworm and the Dothraki wanted no part of Westeros if their diabolical queen could not be the one to rule it. If Jon was willing for his children to have the Stark name, why would Bran object? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Maester Wolkan’s arrival to her solar. As usual, he was draped in his thick gray woolen robe with its cowl neck. He produced a small glass vial from his pocket and placed it on the table. 

“Are you having the dreams again?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“Not tonight,” she assured him.“I can’t fall asleep.”

He nodded.“That should help you.Good night, Your grace if that is all.”

“I must ask you something before you leave me.”The Maester hesitated at the doorway and turned back to her.Sansa sat up straight in her chair and brushed her hair off her face.“Will the moon tea I drank before keep me from having children when the time comes?”

“No, Your Grace.The tea serves a very specific purpose and is limited in its effects.”Wolkan smiled reassuringly.“There should be no bodily impediment for you to bear a child.”

“Thank You, Maester Wolkan; goodnight’,she told him.He bowed and closed the door behind him. Sansa sighed and looked at the vial.Next to it on the table sat a collar she was embroidering for a gown being made for her.It was a deep blue velvet to match the dress, and she’d been working on a pattern which combined direwolves and fish.Tiny shell beads made up the fish scales and there was silver and black stitching for the direwolves.Eira too was a good seamstress, and the two of them were collaborating on the design of the gown.Sansa stood and traced the beading with her fingers.She no longer felt like sleeping after wiping Ghost’s feet and speaking to Maester Wolkan.

Next to the hearth, Ghost raised his head and whined.At the same moment, there was a soft knock at the door. Sansa went and opened it up a crack.As she suspected, it was Jon.He was wearing a loose white tunic and linen trousers, with only socks on his feet.

“I saw the Maester leave.Is Ghost with you?”He asked with a sheepish smile.

“Yes. Yes he is,”she answered.“I knocked on your door a little while ago.”

“I’m afraid I dozed off.He was with me in the keep earlier, and I lost him.”Sansa opened the door wider and gestured to the hearth with her hand.

“His feet were dirty,” she said with a chuckle.“I washed him off, then he went to sleep.” The two of them looked over at Ghost who had put his head down and closed his eyes again.

“Come in.”Jon came inside and she closed the door behind him.His dark hair was in disarray;his unkept curls framing his face. 

“Are you ill?”he asked.

“No, he brought a sleeping draught for me.Too much excitement today, I suppose.”Jon nodded as she pointed to the vial on the table.“Sit if you like.I haven’t drank it yet.”

Sansa went over to the sideboard and poured out two goblets as Jon sat down.He picked up the collar and examined it curiously as she brought the wine to the table.

“Still sewing?” He asked.“It’s very nice.”

“Yes, I’m working on a dress.I’m sorry the dinner dragged on for so long. You looked a bit tired,” she said.

“Not tired, really.Just a little bored with the smalltalk”, he shrugged.Lord Mazin and his sister love to go on.” He took a drink from his goblet and looked at her with concern.“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” he asked her.

Sansa drew a breath and pursed her lips.“I sometimes have dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“About…”her voice fell off.“About things that aren’t pleasant.But not tonight.”

“You can tell me,”Jon said.“You had those dreams at Castle Black sometimes too, didn’t you?”

“When I was married to Ramsay, I asked Maester Wolkan to bring me moon tea every month.I was afraid I would get with child.”She bowed her head and looked at her lap.“Sometimes the dream is about that…about Ramsay finding out.He never did, though.”

“I see,”said Jon.“I’m sorry.”He looked over to the hearth and to Ghost.“I hope you won’t have those dreams anymore.” 

“Do you dream, Jon?”She asked him, hoping to change the subject.

“Sometimes about Ghost,” he said noncommittally.“Sometimes about being children here at Winterfell.”

“Nicer dreams, then.”She smiled and took a sip of wine.“Are your men packed up and ready to leave with you?”

“Just about.They’ve found what we needed, thanks to you.”His eyes rested on hers with a little smile.“I’ll do my best to find Tormund.”

Sansa nodded.Since that morning on the ramparts, she felt that a degree of distance had closed between them.Because Jon had agreed that the raven might fly, a facade had fallen away. But there was now a new sense of tension as well, which she didn't quite understand.

“I’llmiss you,”she said;wondering if the wine was creating a new boldness within her.Jon’s eyes seemed to turn liquid as he reached across the table and grazed her fingertips with his.A shock ran through her body, and her breath quickened. A sensation not unlike falling into a pit overtook her as they locked eyes. _He is beautiful_ , she thought. _And sad like me._ Before she could stop herself, Sansa touched a lock of his hair.

“I want to stay with you, Sansa, but we shouldn’t,”he said, his voice low and uneven.He drew his hand back.

“We should.”Her words hung heavy between them. “I’d like to know what it’s like with someone who’s kind.I’ve never felt that before.”She stood, and touched his shoulder as she walked towards the window.Jon hesitated for a moment before rising and following her.In front of the glass panes, he took her in his arms and kissed her with more urgency than he had that morning.She raked his hair with her hands, closed her eyes and laid her forehead against his.The intensity of her desire surprised her, it washed over her like the spring breeze in the Godswood; soft yet insistent.

Jon’s eyes were half closed, his hands wrapped around her back.Yet she could still sense his hesitation; an invisible force holding him back.There was a sadness to him, a sense of unworthiness that had been there since their childhoods, she thought.She stepped back and took his hand, pulling him towards her bed chamber.

“Please. I want you to. If we're to be married it's our right."

He allowed her to lead him to her bed.A single candle on her night table illuminated the room, and their faces.Jon sat down and pulled her next to him.He put his hands on her shoulders, and Sansa traced his jawline with her fingers.Both of them were panting softly.

“I have scars.”She said.She pulled off her robe and turned her back to him, yanking down the shoulders of her shift, and pulling her braid aside.She knew that even in the candlelight, he would see the faded lines that still marked her back there.She felt his fingers tracing them and then his kiss on her shoulder blade.She sighed deeply. Bitter tears welled in her eyes and spilled to her cheeks. Jon grasped her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him.His thumbs brushed the tears away. He slowly unlaced the front of his tunic and showed her his own still raw appearing scars;wordlessly she etched them with her hand.

He leaned back on the headboard, drawing her to himself until her head rested on his chest. They reclined there together, their arms and legs entwined. 

“I want to, but we should wait, Sansa,”he murmured into her ear.“What if I should get you with child before I leave?There’ll be talk and more problems.”

“You and Daenerys were lovers,” She reminded him.

“Yes.But she’d told me she couldn’t have children.”Sansa sat up next to him, leaning back on her pillows and moving her hands to her lap. “And that was before I knew about my father,” he added.

“Was there anyone else for you before that?”Jon sighed and turned to look at her, his arm still around her shoulders.

“Aye, a Wildling girl named Ygritte.” Something about his expression gave Sansa pause.She recalled Tormund or one of the others had mentioned her in passing at Castle Black.

“You loved her.”It was a statement and not a question.

“I did. She died when Mance attacked us.”

“But how did you…don’t you take vows?”

“I was captured by the Wildlings whilst I was on a scouting mission. I spent some time among them.” A silence stretched between them as Sansa realized there was much about Jon’s life that she still didn’t know.After they’d been reunited at Castle Black, most of their time had been consumed with defeating the Boltons and taking back Winterfell.Jon’s personal life, other than the bare outlines had not really been discussed much by the two of them.

“I should go,” he said finally. He pulled her closer and kissed her on the cheek.“Shall I leave Ghost with you?”Sansa caressed his hair and kissed him again on the corner of his mouth. He moaned softly at her touch.The heady scent of him reminded her of the Wolfswood - fecund, dark and irresistible. Something rose in her blood.

“We’re not children; stay.”

She’d scarcely gotten the words out, when he rolled atop her, his hands traveling her body.His mouth on hers was soft and warm.She nudged him aside to pull off her shift as he stood and undressed down to his linen smallclothes.

She reached out to him, and he came to her; for the moment their scars forgotten.


	18. Wolves and Fishes

“It doesn’t matter!”Sansa’s voice was insistent.They sat across from each other in her solar the next morning, again taking their breakfast together. 

He had left her bed chamber just before dawn, hoping that no one would notice him at that hour. Back in his room he had sat until after the sun came up, ruminating on what had happened. 

“I’m not a child,” she told him as she poured herself a cup of mint tea. “And I wasn’t a maid.What I do is my own affair.”

Jon wasn’t so sure. “But you are a queen.We must be careful.” He watched her hands as she sliced a dried fig in half with her knife.The same hands that had caressed him in the night.Even the way she was eating seemed provocative to him as she bit a piece of the fruit in two. He felt abashed for a moment, but then remembered what had occurred between them.

“Are you sorry now?”She asked him.

“No,” he said.“But we still must be careful.This isn’t King’s Landing.”

“I will be careful,” she said.“You’ll be leaving anyway.I’ll be here waiting for Bran’s Raven.”Jon put down his knife and folded his arms in front of him.Sansa looked lovelier than ever today, he thought to himself.She was wearing a gray-blue dress that hadseed pearls sewn along its neckline; its sleeves were wide and bell shaped, with red leaves embroidered around the cuffs.Her hair was bound into a red plait that fell over one shoulder.She finished her fig and picked up a piece of bread.Suddenly her eyes darted up at him; her smile was a mixture of shyness and knowingness. 

“Did I please you?”He asked her.Her cheeks flushed slightly at his question and her gaze dropped to her plate.

“Yes,” she said finally.“I’ve never felt that before.”

Jon left it at that, not wishing to coax her to speak.Once Sansa had set aside her distress over the marks on her skin, she was receptive to his touch.He’d been a bit surprised and wondered if she was deliberately steeling herself for his sake. He’d spent the dawn hours vacillating between his feelings of love for her and regret that he’d not left her bed when he’d first intended.Now it was far too late for that. 

But perhaps she was correct to dismiss his caution.How many years had the two ofthem lived without giving a thought to their own happiness?Now that life in the North was centered upon rebuilding, why should they not rebuild their own lives as well?Sansa was right; she was virtually alone at Winterfell without him.All the years of death; the Starks almost destroyed; so many other lives lost.It had turned him into a killer.He didn’t want to be one anymore. And Sansa?Perhaps she was tired of the paths that had been set for them since childhood as well.The good parts of their lives, they could keep those.The other parts, the ones that always boxed them in; could those be remade?

The morning sun was pouring through the windows, so bright and insistent that it was almost hurting his eyes.Ghost was awake now too, looking for scraps from their table.Soon he would want to go outside and hunt.Jon had thought to go out riding with him before he had to leave for The Last Hearth and Castle Black.He must also go down and speak to his men to make sure everything was prepared for their return trip.He leaned back in his chair.“Shall we take the horses out before I leave?”He asked her.

Sansa looked up from her plate.“A bit later. I have some things see to this morning.”Jon stood up and then bent to kiss her on the cheek.An odd sense of domesticity descended upon him, leaving him momentarily tongue-tied.

“Don’t be too long,” he said finally.

“I won’t,”she replied.Jon took Longclaw from where it rested against the granite wall and beckoned to Ghost.The two of them headed out the door and down to the Great Hall.Lord Royce was there, sitting and eating with two of his men from the Vale.When he saw Jon he stood and asked him to sit with him.Royce’s men got up to leave, with backward glances at Ghost. 

“Lord Commander, I trust your preparations are going well,”Royce said, once they were seated across from each another. 

“We’re almost ready, I was just now headed to the stables to check on some things,” Jon said politely.“And the Queen and I plan to go for a ride a bit later.I’ll have our horses readied.”

“Splendid,” said Lord Royce.“It’s a marvelous day by the looks of things.”Jon studied the older man’s face.He did not detect any ill will there.A servant came by to offer Jon a plate of food, which he refused, but he accepted a cup of mint tea.

“The Queen told me of your plans,” Lord Royce went on as he reached for a slice of bread with jam.“I must tell you that I support the match, if that’s what she desires.” Jon was taken aback, even though Sansa had told him that she’d gained Royce’s support.“After her safety, that is my primary concern given what transpired here with the Boltons, “ the knight added, his face assuming a disgusted expression.

Jon blinked, unsure of what to say.“Your support means the world to the Queen,” he said finally.She will never forget how you stood by us when we needed you.”

Lord Royce nodded amicably.“Perhaps its presumptuous, but Sansa is almost like a daughter to me.Ever since she came to the Vale, I’ve tried to look after her.As much as I’ve been able, of course.”

“I must ask you, Lord commander; and I hope I am not being too forward,” he continued.“Are you willing for your children to be Starks, as her Grace implied?The stability of the North depends on the Starks; it could even be argued that the stability of Westeros depends on them as well.”

Jon took a deep breath and put down his cup.“I’ve always thought of myself as a Stark, even after I learned the truth.They are my family.”

“You did ride a dragon,” Lord Royce observed.He looked at Jon appraisingly from across the table, his words more a question than a statement. 

“The Dragon accepted me, it’s true.It was something I didn’t ask for.”

Lord Royce considered his words.“That’s true of how you felt about being named King as well,” he said thoughtfully.“I was sitting in this very hall before you left for Dragonstone.I heard you say it.”

“Aye.I accepted it because it was asked of me, but I never wanted it.”

“Why is that?” 

“The haggling and maneuvering were never my strong suit,” Jon said modestly.“Protecting Sansa is something I can do,” he added. He rose from the table and nodded politely.Ghost stood up beside him; the side of his head with the bad ear was cocked in anticipation of going outdoors.

“The Starks will rise again,” said Royce warmly.“And I will do my part to assure that.”

“Lord Royce, the Queen owes you a great debt,”said Jon as he and ghost headed for the great arched doorway.Out in the courtyard another busy day had commenced.Wagons were being loaded or unloaded, cloth was being thrust into boiling vats of dye.A few grubby children ran shouting through the mud.At the stables, Jon inspected his horses, including the new ones that Sansa had allocated to the Watch.His men were readying their cargo; the food, cloth and other sundry items they’d originally come for.He sat on a bench for a moment after informing the grooms to ready his and Sansa’s horses for a ride.They bustled about, and a stableboy was dispatched to tell her guards of the planned expedition. 

Jon sat back to take it all in.The Stark banner with its gray wolf’s head was retrieved from its storage place, unfurled, and propped against a wall.He studied the sigil thoughtfully, scarcely believing that over the span of a few days, a new future had opened itself.Still, he mused to himself whether last night’s passionate embraces had been wise.Not because they weren't genuine, but because they might expose Sansa to needless consequences.What if something were to go wrong, or what if she became pregnant?The risks right now were perhaps too great, but the time for such scruples had already passed. _We must be careful_ , he thought, as he absently stroked ghost’s shoulder.He thought back to his days with Ygritte; how he’d allowed himself the taste of her skin and the warmth of her body.Glorious though it had been, her sad ending had been partly his own doing.And what of Dany?Had his own weaknesses been her unraveling?Sansa must not be exposed to danger or treachery on his account.No, everything should be beyond reproach.

 _The North is truer than the South and truer than dragons,_ he thought, eyeing the banner again.Something about the green of life and the stirring of the Weirwoods had formed his blood and being, and not the dragons’ fire.Rhaegal, though beautiful, had not inhabited his dreams as Ghost did.Sansa was of the Weirwoods and the wolves as well as the fish and the rivers.The image of her red hair and her wild blue eyes looking into his own brought a feeling of kinship as well as longing. 

At that moment he looked up and saw her approaching from the distance; ready for the day’s outing.


	19. Interlude

Sansa had awakened alone in her bed. She grasped at the linens beside her, and found them disheveled and cool to the touch.Opening her eyes to the dim light, she saw his clothes were gone and the door to her solar slightly ajar.For a moment, she fancied his scent had lingered, rich and dark like the Wolfswood.She stretched luxuriously, the bedsheets soft against her body.A sense of freedom stole over her, and she allowed herself to bask in it.A final break from her wretched past with Ramsay and its encroaching dreams now seemed possible.

Years ago when she was a little girl, she would sometimes steal into her parents’ bed at dawn and crawl in between them.Blissfully, she would doze there, engulfed in their warmth. That sense of Winterfell had been her lodestone when life was at its darkest; a hoard of riches thatalways sustained.It was Arya’s pranks and Robb’s smile; Bran’s laugh and Jon’s goodness.That feeling of home; could it come into being again?

 _How far I have come since that time I dreamed of knights and their ladies, of flowers and songs_ , she thought to herself.Now she knew chivalry and honor could be cages enforced by fathers and Kings. _But now I will choose and I choose Jon,_ she thought _._ Jon, who had shared the bounties of her childhood.The brother of her heart though not of her blood. _Jon, so wounded like me._

Deep in the night when they were together, she’d known sadness was their bond as well as love.The scars on their bodies were superficial compared to the scars that were engraved upon their minds. She’d told herself; told him, that theirs would be a pragmatic union, though not unaffectionate.The madness of love would not infect them.But thinking back to her naive notions about Joffrey, the very fancies that had drawn her from Winterfell, Sansa knew they were shallow and girlish representations.Ramsay had cemented her disillusionment, and more than that had lead her to closeoff a part of herself.That was the very reason Jon had seemed safe.But last night a new world had opened. Yet somehow it was a return to what had been; before her departure South and Jon’s to the North. 

Without her wolf, she'd been set adrift, but no longer.

She rose from bed and put on her robe.Eira was in her solar brewing tea with a kettle of hot water from the kitchens and setting out some bread, cheese and fruit. 

“It’s so early,” said Sansa.Eira had red hair too, though it was more of a copper shade than Sansa’s.She was seventeen, and had come from House Umber after the Last Hearth had been attacked and its remaining family decimated.She was small and graceful, her pretty face sprinkled with freckles.Sansa had taken her in and Eira’s loyalty knew no bounds.

“Oh, I had a fitful sleep as well,” Eira replied, her eyes glancing at the vial still sitting on the table.“I saw the Maester coming up here,”she added.

“I didn’t need it after all,”said Sansa.Ghost was still dozing on his side near the fire that Eira had stoked with kindling. The maid glanced at Sansa curiously before resuming her tasks. 

“I have the water ready for your bath if you’d like,”she said.“I’ll have the boys bring it up.”

“I won’t wash my hair this morning,” Sansa said, nodding nonchalantly.Eira left the room, as Sansa poured herself some tea.

While Sansa bathed, Eira laid out the bluish dress with seed pearls, and fresh smallcothes over a chair.She then busied herself straightening the bed linens, when out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw her freeze.On the floor the maid had spotted a pair of rough hewn woolen socks not of Sansa’s wardrobe.Sansa glanced from Eira to the socks and then back again, for a moment unsure of what, if anything, to say. Finally Eira picked them up and carefully tucked them into a basket with other items that were to be laundered.She then returned to her task of smoothing out the linens.Sansa noticed Eira’s face was flushed and her demeanor disturbed.

“You can leave those, they belong to Jon.I know you won’t speak of this to anyone”, Sansa said with a faint smile. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it”, said Eira, her face serious.“But you should hide them.What if the boys with your bathwater had noticed?”

“They are too young to notice such things,” said Sansa as she studied Eira’s worried expression.“Don’t be afraid for me, Eira.He and I are to be married if all goes as planned.Does that shock you?”

“I heard he’s really a Targaryen,” said Eira.“And not your brother.”

“It’s true, we are cousins. And I need to marry.”

“He’s a very handsome man, Your Grace,” said Eira, busying herself with Sansa’s toiletries.“The kitchen girls have all been aflutter over him since he arrived.”

Sansa chuckled.“And what do the other servants say of him?” she asked.

Ezra's brow was furrowed.“They say he’s really a King.”She glanced at Sansa to see her reaction.“And that he cheated death at Castle Black.The Umbers used to speak of it as well.”

Sansastepped out of the tub and reached for a towel, wrapping it around herself.“Those things are true,” she said.“But to me he’s only Jon.”

Eira smiled as she unpinned Sansa’s braid and brushed out her hair.“He’ll be kind to you, I know it.” Her deft fingers redid the braid so it fell to one side. 

“He will,” said Sansa.“But remember, not a word to anyone.” 

Eira nodded as she began rubbing Maester Wolkan’s ointment into Sansa’s shoulders and back.“You deserve someone like him.”

Sansa inhaled sharply as the concoction penetrated into her skin.In a couple of places she could feel its sting.Today she felt curiously detached from the sensation, almost as if it no longer mattered.

“Are you alright?” Eira asked anxiously, her fingers slowing.

Sansa looked up at her and noticed the girl’s face was troubled.“Yes, don’t worry.I’m used to this by now.”

“Why did this happen to you?Why would a man enjoy such a thing?”

“I’m afraid there are many men with dark impulses, Eira.The brothels are full of them from whatlittle I know of it.That’s what Maester Wolkan told me, anyway.Even some Kings have such degeneracy in their hearts.As women, we must be wary.”

“How terrible,” said Eira, as she put the ointment away.“That no one could help you.”

“Someone finally did,”said Sansa.“That’s why I’m here.”

“Jon Snow?”

“And others, too.”Eira fell silent. 

“The Old Gods must have aided you as well,she said finally.“You and King Bran.”

“Perhaps,” said Sansa.“Our Mother kept to the Seven.”She rose from her chair.“I’ll dress myself. Don’t forget what we spoke of.”

After Eira had left her room, Sansa wondered whether the old gods had played any part in what had happened to the Starks as the maid had intimated.Naturally, Northerners would think such a thing.But if the gods were truly watching over them, why would they have allowed Theon and then the Boltons to take Winterfell?Why would they have allowed her father and Robb and Rickon, all the men of the family, to die?Sansa had mostly stopped believing in the intercessions of any gods after her time in King’s Landing, and life with the Boltons had done nothing to assuage her new convictions.Yet the Direwolves, Bran’s visions and Jon being brought back all pointed to there being _something_.Perhaps the North was all there was for them to believe in, with its heart trees and nameless gods to be accepted as symbols that were beyond their grasp. Perhaps their true meaning would always be unfathomable. 

Had some unknown power helped Jon and her take it back, or had it only been their own doing?The answer had eluded her every time she’d pondered it. 

Sansa dressed slowly, her mind wandering back to Jon and what had happened in the night. _I imagined that we wouldn’t love each other, because I didn’t know what that could mean_ , she thought.Now she could see how mistaken that had been.Of course she loved Jon, but never before in the mad, aching way she did now.Her thoughts went to Ygritte, Jon’s Wildling lover, and even to Dany.Jon had experienced this before; that was why he’d hesitated in the library when she’d asked him about it.Perhaps he had thought her naive, or maybe he’d even pitied her.She grew angry thinking of what she had missed because of Joffrey and Ramsay, of how she was used as a pawn for the value of her name. She was certain her mother had loved her father, and Lyanna had loved Rhaegar after all; but until now it had eluded her, and she might have even died without knowing.

She straightened her hair and her dress a final time, before going in for breakfast.


	20. Words

Her dress, the color of water, was the first thing that caught his eye as she approached the stables.Now it was partially covered by her cape, also blue, but a darker shade.It had a white fur collar which enhanced the red of her hair.Jon took a deep breath.Sansa was approaching with a guard on either side, and she smiled as he stood and walked to the doorway.As she came closer, Jon noticed the two silver clasps of her cloak, fashioned in the likeness of the Stark Direwolf sigil, except that the eyes were set with tiny blue stones. 

Sansa’s white palfrey and his own black one were lead out by grooms and stood waiting in the mud. Further back along the granite wall, a small contingent of mounted guards was forming, including a standard-bearer who was readying the Stark banner.As Sansa greeted Jon, she glanced over her shoulder to reveal the Mazins.Lord Mazin and his sister, to Jon’s amusement, had seemingly invited themselves to join the morning’s expedition. 

“Triston would like to do some hunting if you don’t mind, Lord Commander,” said Lady Ursa.“May we join you at least partway?”Ursa Mazin wore a woolen dress the color of saffron with a brown cloak over it.Her golden hair was braided around her head in her usual style.

“Of course,” said Jon.“We’ll wait for your horses to be saddled.Have you your own bows, Lord Mazin?”Triston Mazin stepped forward next to his sister.His hair was darker than Ursa’s and it fell in waves around his youthful face. 

“Yes, my men will ride behind us if it pleases you,” he said with his usual enthusiasm, as Sansa nodded to the grooms.“There’s one for you as well if you like.”

“I probably won’t hunt today, but I can show you a good spot in the Wolfswood,”said Jon.The four of them stood waiting for the Mazins’ horses.Ghost ambled over from inside the stable and stood nearby.

“Will your wolf join us too?” asked Lady Ursa, her face revealing concern. 

“Don’t worry, my Lady.He’s quite tame to friendly people,” said Jon reassuringly.Ursa pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and smiled.

“Of course,” she said brightly.“He must be quite formidable though, by the looks of him.”The Mazins’ mounts, two brown palfreys, were brought out, and they all climbed into their saddles.The standard bearer and three guards came forward to lead, while the rest brought up the rear.

“You’ve quite a procession now,” Jon observed to Sansa as they rode side by side out the North gate and headed towards the forest.

“Lord Royce tells me that I must be more careful about such things,” She told him.“Banners, small councils; ladies in waiting…I’m not sure such formality is needed here.”

“Lord Royce is right,” said Jon.“About being careful, at least.”Sansa glanced back to the Mazins, who were riding at a distance behind them.

“When we’re married, perhaps you can see to it,” she said teasingly.Jon squinted up at the sky.

“Well, I won’t be picking your ladies for you,” he said with amusement.

Sansa looked over to him, concern crossing her face. “I hope I made you happy,” she began, her eyes cast downwards before meeting his again.“I’m afraid I’m not…I don’t know as much as you…”Her words trailed off awkwardly.Sansa’s gaze was fixed on her pommel, her cheeks slightly flushed. 

“I could show you how happy you make me,” he replied, glancing quickly back to the Mazins.“It will have to wait.”She turned to him, her face relieved, but also wearing a trace of sadness.

“What happened to you was not your fault,” his words came out before he could even think them.“And you are beautiful.I’ve always thought that you were.Nothing has changed that.”

“We’re like two wounded birds,” Sansa said ruefully.“My pragmatism was - it was naive.”

“Maybe we both were.” They exchanged another glance before looking away.A silence descended on them as they approached the edge of the forest.Many of the trees now had small leaves and the snow was melted.Here and there, the ground was dotted with snowdrops and patches of green growthGhost walked besides Sansa’s horse, occasionally sniffing at the air.

“Shall we go the same way today?”, he asked her.

“I’d like to go to the fields again,” she said“For the sun.”

“Aye.”Jon shouted directions to the guards, who turned their horses rightwards.Lord Mazin and Lady Ursahad now caught up to them and were riding close behind.

“There’s a good spot up ahead by the bridge,” said Jon, motioning with his hand. 

“Where the wolves were found?” asked Sansa. 

“Around there and over the ridge,” Jon replied.“I’ll show him.”

“You found your wolf there?” asked Ursa.“I’d wondered how you’d gotten them.Our father used to tell us stories about the Starks and their pet wolves.”Ursa looked over to Jon curiously. “You each had one.The Gods must have sent them to you.” 

“I’ve wondered about that myself,” said Sansa, looking back at her.“Only Jon and Arya’s wolves remain.Arya saw hers once before she arrived back here.”

“A pity,” said Ursa.“Such beautiful creatures. And the sigil of your house.It was fated somehow.”Jon glanced over at her.Perhaps she wasn’t as frivolous as he’d first thought. “Your family belongs here, Your Grace.”

“What’s left of my family,” said Sansa.

“You should return here, Lord Commander,” said Triston.“The Watch is broken now”Jon turned his head to the young lord, but said nothing. 

Up ahead, the guards had stopped just after the bridge, waiting for them to catch up.“If you take your men just up there, you may have some luck,” said Jon, pointing beyond the ridge to the west.“I’ll ride with the ladies to the fields.”Lord Triston nodded and started up an embankment.

“I’ll see you back at the castle later,”he said over his shoulder.

Ursa waved to her brother and looked down into the gully, where Ghost was wading in the chilly brook.The rain and melting snows had made the water higher there than it had been a few days before. 

“Oh look!” the girl exclaimed suddenly.“There’s water-mint growing down there, under the bridge.It makes the most delicious tea.”She dismounted from her palfrey and started down the embankment.“It will only take a moment to gather it.” 

“Let the men get it,” said Sansa, glancing over to the guards.But Ursa was already at the edge of the brook, her hands plucking the lush greenery there, the hem of her dress trailing in the mud. Jon and Sansa observed with amusement as one of the guards descended with his saddlebag to help her. 

Ursa looked up suddenly, dropping a handful of the herbs.The guard’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. Sansa’s men closed in around her asJon dismounted and leapt down the embankment, his hand ready to grasp Longclaw. 

In the dimness beneath the bridge, he spied the shadows of two figures, one had the bulk of a man, but the other was small and shrunken; both were shrouded in hoods.As he advanced to Ursa’s side, he could make out the face of an old woman.She pulled back her hood as she emerged.

“Please sirs, my son and I were only gathering tansy and kingscopper.Didn’t mean to startle the lady here,” said the old woman.Her white hair was pulled back, but a few stray strands fell loose around her face. “Ahh,” she said, noticing the scattered stems of water-mint.I see you’ve a liking for mint tea, my dear.”

“Seven hells!”, cried Ursa.“I thought you were poachers.”The girl took a deep breath and wiped her brow with an embroideredsleeve.

“Apologies,” the old woman repeated.Her son emerged from the blackness in a grimy gray cloak, a confused look on his face.“He’s simple,” she explained.“Barely speaks a word.”

“Where are you from?” asked Jon warily.

“Lately, Crofter’s Village,” she said, eyeing Ghost cautiously.“We’re out here searching for plants and roots.There’s some that can only be found around Winterfell.”She looked up the slope towards Sansa and suddenly noticed the Direwolf banner displayed by the standard Bearer.“Sansa Stark, is it?,” she said, her eyes widening.Hastily, she dropped her knee in an awkward curtsy.Her son continued to stand behind her, his mouth gaping halfway open.

“And you’re Jon Snow.I saw you once - ridin’ on the King’s Road with your brothers and Lord Stark.”She looked at Jon, her eyes dark and sharp.

“I know her,”said Ursa.She’s a midwife and a woods witch; I’ve seen her about at Hornwood Hall.”

“Aye, m’lady, you’re right,” the old woman crooned.“I’ve made my potions for Hornwood Hall and the Cerwyns, too.Let me help you.”She bent down to pick up the water-mint that Ursa had dropped.“nice and fragrant, this is.A fine batch you’ve found.”

“What is your name?” asked Ursa

“Marwah, M’lady.”

“You’ve given me quite a fright, but no harm’s been done.”Ursa took the bundle of greens from the woman’s hand and gave them to the guard.“I’m sorry for the commotion, Lord Commander, she added, her eyes darting to Jon.

“Lord Commander, is it?” asked Marwah.“I’ve seen the Starks in my dreams, and sometimes when I stare into the still pool in the Godswood.You have the hearts of wolves.The Gods want you at Winterfell.”

Something about the old woman’s eyes gave him pause, and he was unable to pull himself away from her prattle. 

She did not stop speaking. “Y _our mother had wolf blood and your father dragon blood, but the the wolves defeated the dragon. Your blood is king’s blood, ice and fire, and your child will wearthe crown…”_

“What nonsense is this?”Sansa had come off her horse and down the mossy embankment, with two guards behind her.“Who are you?”

“Just a woods witch,” said Lady Ursa with a sniff.

Marwah curtsied again at the sight of Sansa.“My Queen,” she intoned breathlessly.“A beauty like your mother.”She lowered her eyes respectfully.

“ _I saw your mother and your father when I looked into the pool.The blood of Winterfell.She stood with him by the Heart Tree on the day the direwolf was gored by the stag. And the gods spoke by giving the wolves to you. Gray and black, and white like the bark of the Weirwood.You will mix your blood as they did.The gods watch through red eyes.They watch over you…even as you deny them…”_

Sansa frowned at the old woman’s words.“Their influence seems erratic at best, that is why I doubt them.” Her eyes met Jon’s and he felt a silent sense of agreement. After all, no one had ever been able to explain to him why he had returned from death.Not even Melisandre, the very woman who had brought him back.Her god, the old gods; none seemed to possess a convincing presence in the world.But the red woman, and others like this witch before them were certain they knew the truth. 

“It is we who are inconstant, not the gods,” insisted Marwah.“They work beyond our understanding. _They will send you proof, the blood of wolves and…_ ”

“Stop!”, cried Sansa.“I’ve heard enough.Take the herbs you came for and be on your way.”She gathered her skirts and started back up the stony slope, Ursa moving closer to grasp her arm. 

With one last look at Jon, the woman pulled her hood back over her head and bent to gather what was left of the water-mint.Her son stood by haplessly with his opened pack; he had not uttered one word during the encounter. 

_“A King!_ ” she muttered just loud enough for Jon to hear, as he followed Sansa, Ursa and the guard back to their horses, with ghost trailing behind him.

They mounted their horses again and finally headed for the open fields.Sansa and Ursa rode silently, with Jon and Ghost behind them.Jon noticed Sansa’s face was somber and her jawset;he was certain the crone’s ramblings had upset her.Whether it was the words about wolves and blood, or her image of Lord stark and Lady Catelyn, he couldn’t discern, but a sense of melancholy had taken over.Ursa looked straight ahead at the guards’ backs, her cloakspread out over her horse’s flanks. 

“If the gods were real, they would’ve saved mymother and father,”Sansa said finally, glancing over her shoulder to Jon. 

“Perhaps they have no power in the South,” said Ursa.“Or the Riverlands.Yourdirewolves were here in the North.” 

“We can’t know,” said Jon.“You should pay no mind to what the old woman said.We’ve seen the likes of her before.Nothing good came out of it.” Sunlight was breaking through the dense foliage of the forest as they approached the fields.The guards rode out ahead as the three of them paused at the edge of the open space and looked out at the gently rolling hills, with Ghost standing abreast of the horses.

“Lovely,” said Ursa.“You must enjoy it, Your Grace.“I think I’ll ride ahead a bit.”She urged her horse towards the stone formations that stood off to the West.Jon pulled his horse closer to Sansa and put his hand over hers where it rested on her saddle.

“Are you alright Sansa?It seems that anytime we ride here something disturbing happens.”

“How would she have known how the wolves were found?”

“It’s likely that some in the North have heard the story.There were more than a few men with us that day.Or maybe she did see it.That doesn’t mean the truth isn’t mixed with nonsense.”

“You don’t believe in the old gods, then?” Sansa asked him, her eyes troubled. 

“Whether they’re here or not, there’s nothing definite to be made of them,” he replied with a sigh.“It’s best we find our own way.” After making sure that no one was watching, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Sansa touched his wrist and turned to him; kissing him on the lips.Her taste was sweet, like figs or like honey.They smiled at each other, as though a secret language had been created. 


	21. Lady Ursa

Ursa laid out a cloth one one of the flat rocks in the stone formation.It was from Winterfell, and beautiful; a square of green linen heavily embroidered with twining vines and red weirwood leaves.In each corner was a different woodland creature;a rabbit, a squirrel, a deer and a quail.Whoever had made it had been talented with the needle, for each tuft of fur or bright feather had been artfully rendered.She sighed and sat back on an adjacent stone, waiting for Sansa and Jon.The cook had given them a parcel with bread, hard cheese, and fruit, plus a wineskin.

The two of them had stopped at the edge of the woods and had been conversing there before riding slowly in her direction.They seemed very close, Ursa mused to herself as she folded her hands in her lap and studied the silver rings on her fingers. But that was no surprise, given how they had together accomplished what none had thought possible; regaining the North for the Starks and their people.

Ursa knew only what her mother and her septa had taught her: The gods were everywhere around them, in the trees, the rocks, and the land itself.Crossreach had its own Godswood, though not as grand as the one at Winterfell.When she was a child, Ursa had loved to visit it, with its ancient face carved into the bone-white heart tree.When she’d been still enough, she had sworn she could hear the gods whispering, or even the footfall of one of The Children.Her mother smiled when she’d told her, but had not denied it could be so. 

She had never before considered that the gods might be anything other than real, even when her father had fallen during the Long Night.He had burned on one of the pyres set nearest to Winterfell. Those had been reserved for fallen Stark Bannermen or other important leaders and allies.That pyre had been lit by Jon Snow himself, his face still marred by the battle.Ursa had seen the look he’d exchanged with the Dragon Queen just before they’d plunged their torches into the kindling.To her mind, it was a look of significance and filled with feeling. She’d wondered then about the relationship between the two of them. Were they lovers, as some of the ladies whispered, or only allies against a deadly foe? Jon had been King after all, and then he had made all Northerners the subjects of the beautiful Targaryen.Ursa’s father had been angry; he had been among those who had raised their swords to the White Wolf and made Jon Snow a King.But there hadn’t really been time for conflict over Jon’s decision and then her father had died. Unlike Sansa, Ursa considered his death to be the will of the gods and had accepted it, hard though it was.

After Jon Snow had killed Daenerys and Bran Stark was made King of the Six Kingdoms the rumors started. Jon was a secret heir, and a Targaryen no less; the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar.Many Northerners believed he had conspired to kill the Dragon Queen all along, but was thwarted from taking the crown by her minions. Others told a different story which was more tragic: Daenerys had gone mad and Jon had been forced to kill her.Ursa was more inclined to believe the second account after spending some time around him and Sansa at Winterfell, as was Triston.The Queen sometimes treated him like a piece of glass that might break, so filled with concern and protection.The truth about his birth had not changed their relationship, if anything it had strengthened it.But no one was privy to all the facts of what had occurred, and Jon Snow’s standing in the North was mostly intact.After all, his erstwhile sister - a trueborn Stark -was now Queen, and the North’s independence was maintained.In some respects the cataclysm at King’s Landing had only enhanced Jon’s reputation in the North because of the antipathy mosthad held for Daenerys and her father.

As Tormund Giantsbane had said at the feast following the Night King’s defeat, who but a King could come back from the dead and then have ridden a dragon?And in Northerners’ minds, taken Winterfell from the Boltons, too? But the Jon Snow that Ursa had seen after the battle for Winterfell was very different from the one of the present.He looked as pretty as ever, but an aura of being haunted or cursed somehow shadowed his person.In truth, she was unable to tell how much of it was intrinsic to his situation and how much was being ascribed to him by others. 

Ursa looked up and smiled as Jon and Sansa approached and dismounted from their horses, handing the bridles to the guards.They were a handsome sight together, Sansa in blue and Jon in a dark gray doublet, his hair pulled off his face. 

“I’ve put out the food the cook packed,” said Ursa lightheartedly.“I hope we can forget all about Marwah.What a terrible fright she gave us all.I must apologize Your Grace and Lord Commander, I had no idea we would see her here.”Ursa motioned to the cloth laid out among the scattered flat stones, which allowed plenty of room to sit.

“How could you have known, Lady Ursa?” Jon replied politely.He took Sansa’s elbow and guided her to a place at the makeshift table. 

“A lovely day,” said Ursa, glancing around at the green meadow grass and the early wildflowers scattered here and there.“Indeed, she was the last person I would have thought to see here.”

“Does she make herself known around Hornwood Hall?” asked Sansa

“Not especially, Your Grace.But she _is_ known in the area, mostly among the small folk.I believe they go to her to have their futures told and so forth.And for their ailments.”

“I don’t have much faith in prophecies,” said Jon.He and Sansa exchanged glances, and both fell silent as the three of them ate the bread and cheese. 

“Lady Ursa,” said Sansa after a time.“I am considering asking a small group of ladies to join me at Winterfell to act on my behalf.Would you consider it?”

“I would be honored, Your Grace,” Ursa replied.“But I must speak to my Lady Mother.She has only Triston and my younger sister at home now since my father died in the battle.”

“Of course,” said Sansa.“When you ride home, you must ask her.”She took a sip from the wineskin and passed it to Jon.“Now that Winterfell has been restored and with Lady Brienne gone to King’s Landing, I must build up its people too.”

“Aye. You’ve made a good beginning with Lady Ursa,” said Jon.“I hope your mother will agree to part with you.”He looked Ursa’s way and nodded. 

Ursa was pleased but also taken aback by the offer. Lord Royce had suggested a few days ago that Sansa should choose a number of ladies to aid her, but Ursa had not imagined her own name would come under consideration. Her upcoming nameday would be her sixteenth, and surely there were older and wiser candidates to be found.

“I only hope I’m worthy.”She glanced at Jon. “I’m afraid I’ve not ventured very far from Crossreach my entire life.” 

“You’re more than capable,” said Sansa. “Lady Hornwood spoke highly of you, and I’ve quite enjoyed your company during your visit.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”Ursa gathered the wrappings left from their meal and put them back into the saddlebag.She began folding the embroidered cloth.“This is lovely.Do you know who made it?” She asked Sansa, as she touched an embroidered leaf with her fingertips.

“I believe it was my Mother’s” said Sansa.“It must have been tucked safely away somewhere to have survived.”

Ursa felt dismayed that Sansa had once more been reminded of Lady Catelyn on account of her question.But she only said, “Ahh, how nice that its been found again.There are so many wonderful things still at Winterfell in spite of everything that’s befallen it.”

“Yes,”said Sansa.“Even some of my mother’s jewelry remained where she left it.”Sansa and Jon looked at each other across the gray slab of stone, and then Jon’s eyes flickered downwards.Ursa sensed something unspoken between the two of them, and she rose hastily with the leather bag.Jon got up as well, maneuvering his sword back to his hip.Ursa turned and walked towards the guards and horses.

“I’ll return this to the men,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder.Jon had gone to the queen’s side and helped her to her feet, and then placed one hand on her shoulder.He spoke to her softly as she inclined her head towards him and smiled.Something about the familiarity of his gesture gave Ursa pause, but she turned quickly and resumed walking.At that moment, Triston two of his men suddenly appeared from behind the rocks, their horses at a trot. 

“There you are!” he exclaimed, as he stopped his horse.“I’ve sent one of the men back to Winterfell with two deer.”He dismounted, beaming at Jon and Sansa.

“Well done,”said Jon.“It was always a good spot for hunting.”

“We’d best be getting back,”said Sansa, looking at Jon.“Tomorrow you leave for The Last Hearth and Castle Black.”

~~~

Sansa and Jon walked in the Godswood after the meal prepared in Jon’s honor, and to mark his leaving.Sansa had worn her rose colored gown again, and for the first time in front of him, her crown.Lady Ursa and Eira had thought it appropriate for the occasion because of Jon’s departure and besides that, the presence of Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn at Winterfell.Lord Royce himself had urged Sansa to adopt a more formal appearance for occasionswhen a number of guests were present.No doubt his thinking on the matter was influenced by the announcements that Sansa planned to make in the near future.

The evening air had been refreshing after the long meal, and Sansa felt glad for a chance to walk in the open.They had conversed little as they paused by the Weirwood and the broken tower.Jon had picked a spray of budding blossoms from an old crab apple tree for her to carry back to her chambers after she’d admired its sweet fragrance.They had not kissed in the Godswood even though they were alone there.Somehow the long day and the dinner spent with others had put a distance between them, and Sansa still felt shy with him after last night’s encounter.It had been right to consummate their new bond, she felt sure of that; and to have moved beyond the humiliation of her marriage was liberating.But now she felt a bit unmoored by the new territory they had entered, and tomorrow they would have to say goodbye again.

They headed through the thickets of ash and hawthorn towards the stone archway.The great face of the moon was rising in the sky, and it illuminated Jon’s profile, his fine brow and the arch of his nose.His hair was pulled off his face again, and he was wearing the gray doublet she’d given him.Just before they reached the arch, he stopped and turned his body to face her, taking one of her elbows in his hand.Even though Sansa had looked into his eyes thousands of times before, his beauty shocked her - his penetrating gaze, the fullness of his lips that only last night had been pressed to her body.In spite of herself, she blushed and lowered her eyes. _Have I been too bold_ , she wondered to herself. The pragmatic bond she’d envisioned for the two of them not only seemed naive and foolish, but a thousand years behind her. Something about this place; the ancient Stark Godswood, and Jon’s noble countenance made her feel the weight of their shared blood.

Her father, Lyanna, and the rest of the Starks had once stood here too, alive as she and Jon were now and feeling the aliveness of the spring air that was pungent with the scent of trees and flowers.Sansa imagined them contemplating the promise of their lives - the kinds of thoughts that seemed to come to one naturally with the spring. The cruelties that fate held in store were mercifully concealed. For a moment Ned and Lyanna felt so close and real that she almost expected them to appear in the archway; perhaps with a warning or even a word of encouragement. But in the here and now was Jon holding her arm.She raised her eyes again, wondering if her troubled thoughts were apparent.She felt all the love and all the tragedy of the Starks was now being carried by the two of them.They were more than themselves.

“You must be careful while I’m gone,” his voice was low and urgent.“I’ll be back as soon as I’m able, and in the meantime you have Lord Royce here to help you.”

‘’I will be.”

“I know you’re strong, but you need good people around you.You shouldn’t be so alone.”Jon drew her closer and gazed into her eyes.

“I told you that when you first arrived,” Sansa told him teasingly.“And I’ve chosen the best person to be beside me.”She dropped the crab apple spray and caressed his face with her hand, feeling overwhelmed and as though she might cry.This time their kiss was deep and lingering, less tentative.Finally, she drew back from him.

“We must have sons and daughters,” she told him. The witch's words to them flashed into her mind. "Regardless of what the gods may want of us," she added.Jon drew a deep breath and looked down at the damp earth beneath them.

"Gods or no gods, that is something I never dreamed I would have,” he said.

“You must hurry back to me.This is for our family as well as ourselves.”Sansa bent and picked up the stem of blossoms and inhaled its scent.“The North needs us.” 

Leaving the enclosed world of the Godswood and stepping into the mud of the courtyard, they made their way back to the keep together.


	22. Untamed

Jon’s plan was to look into conditions at the Last Hearth before returning to Castle Black.From there, he would attempt to locate Tormund, last known to be at Ruddy Hall. Sansa had decided, after debating it at length, to send some of her own men along with Jon to the Last Hearth.After all, Jon did not take commands from her.But it was in the interests of the crown to see that the castle was secured, and Jon agreed for them all to ride together.Over dinner, the plans had been discussed with Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn, as well as Triston Mazin.It was decided that Triston was to ride with Sansa’s men.Privately, she had told Jon that the Mazins should become a more important house in the North, especially because of the fickleness of Lord Glover, who had been keeping to himself at Deepwood Motte since the Battle for Winterfell. 

In the Godswood, he and Sansa had been mostly silent until they’d reached the broken tower with its greening tangles of wild roses and neglected apple trees.She allowed the slender branch he’d picked to trail behind her as she walked beside him, her hair loose and falling in waves down her back.The hem of her pink dress was sodden from the damp earth, and Jon liked how natural she looked compared to her regal appearance at dinner. She had handed off her crown to a maid before they’d gone outside. One made of flowers or red leaves would suit her better.

The Stark women were said to possess a certain wildness.Although Sansa favored her mother, there was an element of the untamed in her as well.Especially, it seemed to Jon, when they were outside in the Wolfswood. There she would appear to him as though merged with the land and its creatures. Because of Ghost he had felt that way himself at times, as if the North was coursing thickly through his blood.It was afeeling more difficult to fathom than even the gods. _A part of the Starks does not really belong to them;_ he thought as he watched Sansa’s graceful form moving ahead in the receding light. Tonight she was a wild girl with red hair and blue eyes, taking in the rising moon and the cool sweet air. She had once been his sister and somehow still was, but that life seemed far away. A subtle undercurrent of desire stalked him as they walked; a feeling to which he had grown unaccustomed.

The witch, with her talk of blood and wolves had perhaps goaded these thoughts, and Sansa’s reserve when he’d taken her arm had somehow stirred him even more.For a moment, she had blushed like the maidens of her songs. There was a depth to her that no one had plumbed, and he felt her beauty and her sadness might break him.The ghosts that haunted her, like his own, were real. But there was still that tempered wildness.

Then came their kiss and the talk of children.The children he never thought would be born, much less as Starks.He had refused that opportunity once when Stannis had offered it to him, partially out of loyalty to Sansa, but also because of his vows.It was always what he’d wanted before he had accepted that it could never happen to him as a bastard, or later, as a Targaryen.

As they stood at the entrance to the great hall, he’d asked her if they should say goodnight.“Come to me later,” had been her reply, before she moved off to speak to Lord Royce and the Mazins who were still enjoying a drink and laughing by the hearth.Jon had checked on the horses and spoken with his men before returning to his room with Ghost.There he packed up a few remaining things and sat with a cup of ale, all the while thinking of her in the Godswood with her hair falling free and the way her face had warmed when he touched her.After a time he went and rapped softly on her door and let himself in.

She was standing near the hearth, still in the same dress, but now her feet were bare.On the table was her crown, sitting next to a pile of sewing and the spray from the apple tree. Jon walked over and examined the circlet formed of two conjoined wolf’s heads before carefully putting it down again and turning to face her.Her hair was still loose over her shoulders and tousled from the outdoors.He could smell the Godswood on her, green and earthy, combined with her own perfume which he thought was rose.Sansa brought two goblets of wine and they sat at the table turned towardeach other in their chairs.Both the mantle and her table held lighted candles in various phases of melting, and they drank together in thesoft glimmer they cast.The wine was sweet and he soon began to feel a bit lightheaded, especially when Sansa gazed into his eyes.A pleasant haze stole over him, one that contained more than a hintof desire.

“Jon.”Her voice coaxed him back.She had placed her glass down and leaned forward.

“Aye”

“Did you love her until the end?”Her question hung in the air, almost an accusation, and without realizing it he recoiled.

“In some manner,” was all he could say. Had it been out of loyalty to his blood, or was it the guilt of betraying a lover?He had asked himself many times. But his mind was still a pit of confusion over his true feelings for Dany.

“I know you wouldn’t give your heart over easily.”

“Why do you ask?Is it bothering you?”He considered that Sansa might change her mind and would tell him to stay at the wall.In truth, it might be the right decision for her.

“When we were speaking in the library, you seemed unsure about your feelings. About love.”Her voice had become softer. 

“I’ve never been one for fancy words. Early on I saw the best side of her and not the darker parts.After I told her the truth, that’s when it fell apart between us.But I had pledged the North to her.That seemed a separate matter.”

“Did Tyrion lie to you…about her?”

“No. He was blinded like the rest. Until it was too late.The throne was everything to her, more important than mercy, or truth.”Jon got up and stared into the fire burning low in the hearth. “I could never have been what she wanted.”

“What she wanted?”

“I think she saw us together as the Targaryens were prone to do.”Jon remembered the ruined throne room, the look on her face, the childlike quality of her voice. Her words. _Build the new world with me_.Before he’d learned the truth, he and Dany had burned in the manner of the Targaryens.It was not a coupling that was rooted in the earth.It had conjured a different kind of power.

Sansa’s face remained impassive.“That’s something I don’t think I understand. Of course we’ve all heard the history.”She got up from her seat and stood next to him by the fire.“It’s over.We’ll start a new life together.”

He turned to her.“It may never be over.People have long memories for things like that.”The weight of everything thathad occurred seemed to press upon him all at once.“Sometimes because of you, I think that I may finally be free of it.But it might be better to learn to live with what happened.”He gently smoothed her hair; the rich scent of roses wafted over him. She closed her eyes for a moment and her lips parted ever so slightly. 

“Remember in the end it was you I chose," he told her.

“I want to understand is all,” she said. “For you.”She stepped closer and embraced him, nestling her head against his shoulder.“What you felt.”

His arms wrapped around her back. But he did not know what to say.Both loves had left him broken.An overwhelming desire to be good to Sansa possessed him; life was fragile and uncertain.She had suffered enough.The Starks had suffered enough.He must be for her what she saw in him, or they would be lost.

“Maybe now matters more,” he said finally.She drew back from their embrace and grasped his wrist.He thought her as bewitching as she’d been in the Godswood, her eyes luminous, her red hair like burnished copper in the soft glow of the candles.

She tugged on his sleeve and they went to her bed chamber; there were more candles there and another low fire.Sansa unlaced her gown where it tied at the side of her waist and undid the buttons.She stepped out of the folds of raw silk and stood in her white linen shift, its neckline deep. The silver chain she wore around her neck disappeared where it dropped between her breasts.Jon wondered if it was her dragonfly from when she was a girl. 

He looked at her for atime before he sat and yanked off his boots.Sansa sat next to him and undid the clasps on his doublet; it fell off his shoulders and he drew his tunic over his head. He liked her in white; it set off the paleness of her skin and her dusky lips that looked so ripe to him.But Jon waited, waited until she grasped his shoulders and finally kissed him.It wasn’t fire so much as it was a deep and endless lushness to kiss her and delve into that other world, a living world.

He slipped her shift off her shoulders, tracing the silver chain until his fingers found the ornament it held. It was a dragonfly, though a different one than he remembered, with glittering flecks of minerals embedded in the delicate wings. Sansa lifted the chain from around her neck and dropped it to the floor.With her pale breasts bared beneath her flaming hair she was again the girl of the wolfswood, complete in her power to break him.They stripped off their remaining clothes and sank into her featherbed, a tangle of limbs and urgent kisses.Her body, receptive and warm, made him one with her, one with the North; its lands, its gods.


	23. Blue Ash

Eira took a knife from her pocket and began stripping the bark from a large branch of the old ash tree.It was called “blue ash” because of the special dye that could be made from it.When the tough, outer bark was peeled away, a softer layer was revealed that felt almost like a jelly.This was the part Eira wanted. She would fill her sack with it, and later chop it to pieces for boiling in a vat.It would produce a coveted shade of blue, a soft muted blue like the sky late in the afternoon.The maid wiped her brow with a sleeve and glanced over her shoulder to Sansa, who was bathing in one of the godswood’s hot pools.Some of the great tree’s boughs dipped down gracefully until they almost touched the steaming water.Birds sang and the morning sun dappled the secluded alcove with its light.

She was immersed to her neck in the shallow pool, her head reclining on its green bank, her eyes closed.Maester Wolkan’s advice had been to take the waters at least once or twice weekly.Since Jon had gone North with Lord Mazin, a strange anxiety sometimes gripped her in the night, and she found it difficult to fall asleep again.Her old nightmares had not been recurring, but Sansa allowed the Maester to think that they were. “The minerals in the pools will calm your mind,” he had said, likely hoping she would need his draughts less often.There had been no raven from Jon about the Last Hearth or Tormund, but he had been gone for only twenty days.

Sansa thought back to the morning of his departure.He had visited the crypts as was his custom, and he’d emerged from them with Ghost beside him and wearing a somber expression. Sansa had noticed he’d avoided the crypts since his return; perhaps it had become too painful to be there.Sensing his feelings, she had not accompanied him, but had stayed in the courtyard with Lord Royce, Ursa, and a few others who had gathered to see him off. 

They had said their private goodbyes already, of course.Their night together had served to seal them to each other even more than she had thought possible.For a long time after Ramsay she had believed that no man would ever touch her again.Even when the Lords pushed her to marry, her mind had been preoccupied with ways of putting them off. But just as the old witch had intimated, the blood of Winterfell demanded an heir. 

This time their union had been primal and urgent, their bodies more demanding.Sansa knew it had begun in the godswood and built slowly through that last evening, stalking them silently like one of their wolves.The waiting was both a torture and a joy; and the smallest thing about him could provoke her desire.His hands, his reluctance, the pitch of his voice when he spoke to her.She had imagined the roughness of his face against her neck, or his muscled thighs pressing against her body and turned her face from him to hide her feelings.Perhaps he would be shocked, she had thought to herself. _Shocked that she, who’d been his sister wanted him so madly_.Yet at moments she was certain he already knew. The Weirwood, the sultry pools, the very stones of the walls whispered that their union was ordained.The ancient forest itself seemed to enter her blood and run through her veins when they were together.

 _Now I know what a lover is_ , she mused to herself in the luxurious warmth of the pool.It was his dark male presence, beside her in the night, enveloping and demanding, yet comforting as well.It was Jon insistent inside her, but insistent about her pleasure, too.The sacred giving andtaking between them had released a realm of love that made everything appear new and beautiful, and even the ache of his absence held sweetness. _I’ll never hurt you_ , he’d whispered afterwards, as they lay tangled in each others arms.There were no words, really, that could express a proper goodbye.The night itself was testament to their deepened bond.

Eira’s words interrupted her thoughts.“You shouldn’t stay there too long, Your Grace.The waters are very hot.”The maid retrieved a linen towel from where it rested on the moss.Sansa lifted her head and straightened herself to a sitting position, rubbing her temples with her hands.

“Do you feel better?” Eira asked a bit anxiously.“The heat can get you dizzy.And the spirits in there, I’d wager.”

“I’m alright,” Sansa replied.“I have a little headache is all.Did you find what you needed for the dress?”

“I did.It will be lovely on the cloth Lord Royce brought from The Vale for you.I’ll have the kitchen girls start on the vats today.” 

“You must make something for yourself as well, and perhaps a shawl for Lady Ursa.”

“Aye, she is a good seamstress.”Eira held the towel wide in her arms so that Sansa could wrap it around her body.“Sit on the rock for a moment and clear your head.I’ll brew you some tea from the water-mint Lady Ursa gathered when we return to your rooms.”Sansa sat down as Eira gathered her small clothes and gown, readying them.She drew an apple cake wrapped in oilcloth from her sack and offered it to Sansa. “Eat this. Perhaps you’re hungry.”Sansa took the cake, but put it down after one bite.“My appetite must be off,” she said offhandedly.“We best get back”

“You miss Jon Snow, but you must take care of yourself,” admonished Eira, as Sansa slowly dressed and uncoiled her braid from atop her head.“What would he say if he knew you weren’t eating?”

Sansa scoffed.“Don’t fuss so much, I’m fine. You remind me of my old Septa.”A forgotten grief flashed through her mind.

“You’re sad, I think.He’ll be back soon enough.”The two made their way along the path by the stone wall and toward the arch.“Perhaps you should visit the glass gardens to cheer yourself.”

“Not today, but we could send for some flowers.”Eira dismissed the boys standing watch at the entrance to the courtyard.It was in its usual state of activity, with bustling servants and disheveled children running through the mud.When they saw Sansa emerging from the godswood, they gleefully ran inside and Eira laughed.“That’s their favorite place to play.”

“As it was ours,” said Sansa.“One can get lost in there for hours.”They paused at the kitchens to deliver the ash bark and Eira gave instructions for producing the dye.Lord Royce had brought a lovely bolt of damask brocade on his visit, mentioning that it had belonged to her Aunt Lysa and came with her cousin’s blessings.Good fabrics were scarce since the wars and Sansa had accepted it happily. The fine cloth, slightly rough hewn in texture, was woven with a delicate design of intersecting vines and leaves. Eira anticipated the pattern would absorb less color than the background and would therefore be a bit paler in hue.

Eira ordered a kettle of scalding water to be sent upstairs, and they made their way back through the great hall and up to Sansa’s solar.“Thank the gods you’ve no audiences today,” Eira exclaimed as she found the jar of dried mint in the sideboard.“You need to rest with that headache.Lie down for a bit, and I’ll bring your tea as soon as its ready.”With a resigned sigh, Sansa obeyed, deciding it was best to humor the maid lest she summon Maester Wolkan.She went to her bedchamber and took off her boots and the top layer of her dress before sinking onto the featherbed.The steaming waters had fatigued rather than invigorated her, she thought to herself as she rested her head on a pillow. 

Moments later, Eira came in and propped up the cushions so that she might drink the fragrant tea.“You’ll feel better in no time,” she said as she placed the cup on the night table.Sansa sat up and sipped slowly as she watched Eira sort through the baskets of clothing that rested on the gray slabs of the floor.Eira paused in puzzlement as she filled a basket with soiled linens.

“Haven’t you gotten your moon blood, Your Grace?”

“No,” Sansa replied groggily.Then the meaning of Eira’s question struck her mind.Eira set the laundry aside and sat back on her haunches, nonplussed, as Sansa put down her cup.Her eyes darted here and there in consternation and disbelief.

“I’m never late.”Eira nodded solemnly in agreement.“I’d forgotten about it with everything that’s happened….” Sansa’s voice trailed off.

“You’ve been upset, perhaps that’s thrown you off.”Eira’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But the headaches, and not wanting to eat.”She rose suddenly and went to Sansa’s bedside.Without thinking, she took her hand.

“It can’t be.” Sansa looked down at her belly. 

“You didn’t…lie with him then?”Eira knit her brows.Sansa moved her free hand so that she grasped the maid’s between her own firmly.

“ _You must not breathe a word of this to anyone.Anyone_.”

The girl nodded slowly.“I would never.But Maester Wolkan…mustn’t you tell him?”

“ _No_.”Sansa released Eira’s hand and leaned back.“No one must know.I’m trusting you to keep this quiet.Leave me now, I have to think.Go about your business as you normally would.”She watched as Eira reluctantly picked up her basket and left the room with a furtive glance over her shoulder.


	24. Scroll

> _The massive branches of the heart tree loomed over her as she stood before it; its red leaves bright as they rustled in the breeze. There was also a faint music, but with a humming note underneath which was causing a small discordance to her ears.The bone white face was as inscrutable as always; looking out, but giving nothing away.The tree was trembling with life and the humming grew louder.She looked down at her abdomen as it fluttered and swelled.Dragonflies emerged from the moss at her feet, flew up and engulfed her.But their wings felt like caresses as they buzzed and shimmered with blues and greens.They darted up into the foliage and were engulfed in a sea of red. “Blood will out,” Aclear voice declared, and the humming abruptly stopped._

Sansa awoke with a start, sitting up halfway in her bed before realizing she’d been dreaming in the middle of the afternoon.The leaves and the dragonflies, the voice, had all seemed so real that she had to catch her breath before sinking back onto her pillows.How many hours had passed, she wondered, since she’d dozed off, or had it been only a short time ago? 

“ _The Queen is indisposed_.”She had heard Eira’s voice warding someone off from her solar, just before she had drifted to sleep.The nausea would come in waves, overtaking her at odd moments and especially if she’d not eaten. But sometimes food didn’t help.The sight of eggs or the smell of melted butter could make her stomach heave or worse, cause her to actually retch. Every day began that way now, until she felt well enough to dress and eat.Usually some dried fruit and bread would suffice to settle her stomach for the morning’s plans.There were bannermen to meet or supplies to be acquired; sometimes scrolls to read and ravens to send.She must continue on with these as though nothing had changed. Sansa could get through it but now found she needed to rest in the afternoon.Many ladies did that, Eira had assured her.It was not so unusual as to arouse suspicion. _But something had changed, and it could not be hidden forever._ She had hoped, but she had not bled.Each day that passed meant another day closer to the child’s birth.The child that Jon didn’t know about, _the child that carried their blood_.

A raven from Jon had arrived finally after twenty-five days.He and Lord Mazin had reached the Last Hearth and were investigating what repairs were required in order to restore it.Soon Jon would go on to Castle Black with his men.She had read the scroll, sealed with plain black wax, several times, as though hoping something personal from Jon could be discerned from its contents.In her heart she knew this would prove fruitless; what she was really considering was how she might reply to him. It seemed too risky to send word in a scroll that might be intercepted or seen by any number of prying eyes.Sansa sat up in bed with a sigh and eased her legs over the edge.Eira entered her bed chamber carrying a pitcher of warm water and some dry white linens. 

“Are you feeling better Your Grace?” She asked anxiously as she set the pitcher next to a basin.“You’ll be wanting to dress for dinner soon.Lady Ursa is back, that should cheer you.”

Sansa shrugged noncommittally.“I feel alright. But perhaps Ursa should come to my rooms instead.”

“I could send for her. Do you plan to tell her, then?”A look of concern crossed Eira’s face.

“I must get word to Jon.Sending a raven under my own seal is risky.And Jon will be leavingthe Last Hearth, so it must go to Castle Black.”

“Aye it tis risky. But still…”Eira retrieved a piece of soap and set it out next to the water and towels with a sigh. “My brother Flynn … he knows that place like the back of his hand.”

Sansa cocked her head.“We could send him with something for Triston, but he could also carry a letter. It would be slow, but perhaps.How old is Flynn?”

“He’s sixteen, Your Grace.”

Sansa looked at Eira doubtfully.“I must think about this.”The maid curtsied and ducked back into the solar.Sansa hurriedly chose a plain gray dress from her wardrobe and laid it on her bed.She washed mechanically at the basin, her mind racing.She tried to calculate how long it would take Jon to locate Tormund once he rode to Castle Black.It could be two or three Moons even, and still another to ride back to Winterfell.But how many moons until her belly swelled as it had in her dream?

She dried off and stepped into her dress, lacing the waist and buttoning the front.Hastily she brushed her hair and braided it over one shoulder.As she tied her boots, her mind turned to Jon’s misgivings about their nights together. _What if I should get you with child before I leave?_ had been his very words to her before she had kissed him. She thought of the many times she had endured Ramsay’s abuse and yet had not become pregnant.Of course there was Maester Wolkan’s moon tea, which he would bring a few days before her bleeding was due to commence.It had always arrived regularly, with that pulling ache in her womb, thank the gods.But two times with Jon, and she was already with child. _And Daenerys had been barren_. Sansa hugged her shoulders and drew a deep breath.Maybe it was fated. Suddenly she realized that she wished this child to be born with the same depth of feeling she’d prayed Ramsay’s would not.Son or daughter, the child must be protected.

~~~~

Over a dinner of honeyed chicken and roasted turnips, Lady Ursa was as cheerful as ever.She looked well in a new gown of green linen that she and her mother had made together at Crossreach, and hair was braided and wound atop her head like a crown. She wore a delicate silver necklace with tiny green stones. The Lady Ursaline Mazin had acquiesced to her daughter becoming a companion to the queen at Winterfell. 

“She's declared it a great honor,” Ursa assured Sansa overlemon cakes and tea.“She is a bit vexed though that only my younger sister Milly remains at home now.”

“She and your sister must come and visit you here after your brother returns from the Last Hearth,” Sansa told her.

“That would be lovely, Your Grace, thank you.”Ursa put her fork down and took a sip of tea made from the water-mint she had gathered on the day they’d encountered the witch Marwah in the woods.“You look a bit pale.Are you feeling quite well?”

“I am fine,” replied Sansa as she picked at a lemon cake.

“I’m glad you had word of the Lord Commander and Triston.I was relieved they reached the Last Hearth safely.”

“Yes, myself as well.”Sansa put down her cup and folded her hands in front of her.“Ursa, I must ask you to do something for me.”

“Anything, Your Grace.Anything at all.”Ursa leaned forward expectantly.The green stones of her necklace sparkled in the candlelight, and her face was young and earnest.

“I would like you to send a Raven to the Lord Commander at Castle Black, under House Mazin’s seal.”

“Anything your Grace, but why?”

“The message is sensitive in nature, and I don’t wish it to attract too much attention.I will write the scroll myself, and you can bring it to Maester Wolkan.I thought of sending a rider, but I fear it would take too long.”

“Surely,” said Ursa.Her face wore a puzzled expression. "Has the Lord Commander left The Last Hearth Already?”

“I believe so, or he will soon.That is why it must go to Castle Black.And there’s no rookery at the Last Hearth now, of course.Jon did take two ravens with him, but I feel the message must go to Castle Black.”

“Of course. Let me know when you’ve written it.I’ll bring you my seal.My father was devoted to the Starks, and my family remains so.”Ursa touched Sansa’s hand across the wooden planks of the table.“Are you sure you’re well?”

Ursa’s face turned blurry in the light of the flickering candles, and Sansa pressed one hand to her breast.Ursa rose hastily and came to Sansa’s side. 

“Shall I send for the Maester?”

“No. No, Ursa; I will be fine. It’s only a bit of indigestion.You can return to your rooms to fetch your seal, if you please. Bring it back here to me.I must write tonight and we will send the Raven in the morning.”

After Ursa had left for her rooms, Sansa went to the desk and took out her quill and parchment. 

> _Jon. Lady Ursa has kindly allowed me to write under her seal. Circumstances require that you return to Winterfell as soon as you are able. Our endeavor must move forward earlier than we expected.Be safe in your travels, dear brother.Sansa_


	25. Remedy

“My Lady Mother has a request for Jon Snow.”Ursa stood in the rookery atop the Maester’s Turret, clutching the scroll in her fingers.“The Queen says it’s to fly at once to Castle Black.”

Maester Wolkan looked at her curiously and nodded.“At once, My lady.I’ll send the Raven as soon as I’ve fed him.”He took some scraps of raw meat from his bucket and began tossing it into the tall cages.The glossy black birds squawked loudly as they fought over the bloody morsels.Maester Wolkan wiped his hands on a rag and took the scroll from her.He studied its yellow seal of wax which was stamped with the checkered sigil of House Mazin.

“How long does it take to get there, Maester?”The tower with its airy windows was a windy place that morning and Wolkan's heavy cloak and cowl were billowing around him.

“About two days.”

Ursa nodded, satisfied.“There is one more thing.”

“Yes?Are you not well, my Lady?”

“No…well yes.My stomach pains me me after I’ve eaten.Have you something for it?”

“Indeed.If you’ll wait for me below, I’ll be happy to give you a remedy.It’s probably just a bit of upset from your journey.”

“Yes, that was my thought as well,” Ursa told him as she turned and descended back down the rickety spiral staircase. 

After she had watched the raven depart the yard and received the vial from Maester Wolkan, Ursa pulled her hood up and trudged slowly back towards the great keep as the heavy breezes whipped back her cloak.Sansa’s demeanor had troubled her yesterday evening when she’d returned to the queen’s solar with House Mazin’s seal.She had been sitting at her desk holding the rolled up scroll, but her face was ashen and her eyes were closed. 

“I’m afraid you’re ill.”Sansa’s eyes had opened suddenly and she began rubbing her temple with her free hand.

“Not at all, Ursa.I think I ate too much is all.You’ve brought the seal?”Ursa watched as Sansa deftly heated the wax and closed off the parchment with the metal stamp.She had then given Ursa the scroll with instructions to deliver it to Maester Wolkan.Ursa was alarmed by Sansa’s pallor and suggested that she retire to her bed chamber for the evening. _And surely the queen had barely touched her plate,_ she thought to herself in puzzlement.

Now it was a new morning, and Ursa finally reached Sansa’s solar.She knocked softly on the door and quietly let herself in.Sansa was at her desk again, studying a document of some kind.Her hair fell loose around her shoulders today, and she did look more rested.But as she drew nearer, Ursa noticed dark circles under her eyes.

“I watched the Raven depart, your Grace,” said Ursa with a curtsy.

“No need for that in private,” Sansa told her.“And Maester Wolkan was agreeable?”

“He did not question me. I did as you asked.Forgive me, but I’ve brought you something for your sickness. I told him it was me who’s ailing.”Ursa produced the little glass vial from her pocket. “ He said it’s a tincture of chickweed and mint.Put a few drops under your tongue.”She placed the concoction down on the desk.“You must tell him if you don’t get better.”

“Thank you, Ursa.But it wasn’t necessary.I do feel better today.”Sansa’s tone was unconvincing.

“In truth you look a bit thin, Your Grace.And Eira said you’ve not been sleeping.”Sansa sighed and looked down at her hands.“Forgive me. My Lady Mother told me I must look after you,” Ursa added, her voice slightly strained. 

Sansa got up from her desk and stood in front of the fireplace.“I will take the tincture, and I’m sure it will help.And now I must go down and see about the stonemasons for the Last Hearth.”She picked up the vial and placed it into her pocket.“You may as well come with me.It’s good for you to know of these things.”

For the remainder of the morning Ursa sat to one side of Sansa with Lord Royce on the other in the Great Hall.Stone masons were to be summoned and granite would need to be quarried.There were disgruntled merchants from Wintertown and already rumors of dissension from Lord Glover about the Last Hearth. 

“Lord Glover did not join the fight against the dead,”observed Ursa during a lull in the discussions.

“No,” Sansa told her.“He was displeased that Jon bent the knee.”

“My father was as well, Your Grace. "But he still fought.”

“As did the other bannermen,” Lord Royce observed wryly.

“Perhaps its time I summon Lord Glover for a talk.”Sansa rose from her chair, and the others in the hall followed suit.“The audiences are finished for the day,” she told Maester Wolkan, who had been seated at the far end of the table.He got up and dispersed the few men who remained, telling them to return the next morning. 

“Shall I have the servants bring your meal?” asked Ursa as she watched the hall emptying.“I don’t see Eira about”

“I must get some air first,” said Sansa. 

“It’s rather chilly today with a cutting wind.Perhaps taking the air on the parapet would be preferable to walking outdoors,” said Ursa.

At that moment Maester Wolkan approached them and bowed.“Your Grace.And Lady Ursa.Are you better?”

“Quite. The queen and I were just about to take the air.”Ursa glanced at Sansa uncertainly.

Sansa leaned against the table for a moment, as if for support. “I’ve changed my mind, I think I’ll go upstairs.”Master Wolkan took a step closer to Sansa, his face concerned.

“Your Grace. Perhaps you have the same illness as Lady Ursa? It’s best that you rest.I’ll be up to see to you shortly.I’m afraid I must insist.It seems the hot springs I recommended are not helping you.”

~~~~

Maester Wolkan had returned to his rooms for medicines and Sansa was reluctantly resting in her bedchamber.Ursa had helped her into a robe and brought her a plate of dried apples.Eating the bland fruit helped, as Sansa had known it would.She had gone too long without food, which had made her feel ill again.She’d sent Ursa off to the kitchens under the pretense of asking that an obscure soup be made for dinner.Sansa glanced around the room wearily.Ursa, fearing drafts, had shuttered the windows, which dimmed the afternoon sun. On the table next to the fireplace, the fine damask that Eira had dyed with ash bark was laid out for her perusal. It was in Sansa’s mind to make a dress for her marriage to Jon.The shade of blue would be perfect; it was the color of the tunics her brothers had worn as boys.Her mother and Septa Mordane would sew them from linen or wool and would sometimes make dresses as well - dresses with knotting at the bodices that Arya always hated.But the blue was dusky and lovely with a hint of gray, and would be perfect for her wedding.

Leaning back against her cushions and closing her eyes, Sansa wondered how long her pregnancy could remain a secret.It was difficult to anticipate when the sickness would come upon her and therefore even more difficult to conceal.Her mother’s face flashed into her mind’s eye. _If only she could be here with me_ , she thought.But then she remembered what Lady Catelyn had thought of Jon, and a rush of complicated feelings overwhelmed her. Her mother had not known the truth about Jon.If she were here and she knew,then surely she would understand. _Surely she would give me good advice._ She thought of all the years her father had lied about Jon and the bitterness that had been the consequence.The hurt her mother had suffered. _But she would help me, and tell me to be strong._ _Instead I am alone here, without her and without Jon._

Maester Wolkan rapped lightly on the door and slippedinto the room, carrying his leather satchel of medicines.Eira bustled in after him wearing an anxious expression.

“Can I bring you something Your Grace?I just saw the Lady Ursa in the kitchens.I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“No, Eira.I’ll speak to Maester Wolkan now.You can wait in my solar.”The maid curtsied and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Maester Wolkan drew a chair up to her bedside and placed his hand on her forehead.

“Your skin is a bit clammyHow long have you been ailing?”He took her arm and placed his fingers on her pulse, before dropping it again.“The hot springs haven’t had the effect I’d hoped for.You look very drawn.”The chain he always wore around his neck made a soft clanging sound as he moved.

“Is your sleep still troubled, Lady Sansa?” He asked in a puzzled tone of voice, not noticing he’d used her former appellation.His brows were knit together in thought.Sansa thought it unlikely she could hide the truth from him.

“I’m afraid my condition is due to something quite different.I believe I am with child.”Her own words sounded foreign to her, as though another person had uttered them in her place.

Wolkan inhaled sharply and lowered his eyes for a moment.“I see.And how do you know this?”

“I’ve stopped bleeding.It’s been nearly a moon since it should have come.” Sansa put her hand to her forehead and a few tears spilled down her face.“I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t know what to do.I must carry on, but I feel so ill.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace.But is this why Lady Ursa sent the Raven this morning?”

“Yes.”Sansa wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened her back.“Can you help me?”

“I can give you moon tea,” Maester Wolkan said uncertainly.“If that’s what you are asking.”

“No. This child will be heir to Winterfell and the crown.”

“Of course.Forgive me; I only wanted to make certain I’ve understood you.Jon Snow…the Lord Commander will surely return here as soon as Lady Ursa’s raven arrives at Castle Black.In the meantime, I can help you with your sickness, and not a soul need know.May I ask, who does know of this, besides me?”

“Only Eira.She can be trusted.”

“And Lady Ursa?”

“She didn’t know what was in the scroll.”

“I see.It’s possible, you know, that your courses are late for other reasons.You must describe any other changes you’ve noticed.”Sansa told him of her aversion to certain smells and foods, and other bodily signs.The Maester asked whether her breasts were painful and if she felt dizzy.

“It’s more than likely that you are indeed with child, and all but certain if your moon blood doesn’t appear again.His voice was low and serious.“You must stop taking the waters.They are far too hot for you now. I’ll prepare a salve and some tonics for you.”

Sansa sank back onto her cushions. “And can you cure me of my sickness?”

“It’s quite common for your condition, but it can be mitigated. You should take a tea of raspberry leaves three times a day. I will make you a tonic of elm bark and ginger; and a salve as well.You must rub it into the soles of your feet and your temples, morning and night.I’ll call Eira back in and instruct her.”

A sense of relief washed over Sansa after Maester Wolkan had left her in order to prepare the medicines.He had already given Eira the dried raspberry leaves and a vial of rose hip oil to rub onto her wrists and behind her ears, assuring that the scent would soothe her queasiness.Sansa used the oil and sipped at the tea that Eira had quickly brewed. _All I need is some time,_ she thought to herself. _I must be strong until Jon returns._

She got up to examine the blue cloth laid out on the table.She ran her fingers over the fine weave, with its raised design of intersecting vines. Just as Eira had intended, the vines were slightly lighter in color than the rest of the cloth, leaving a beautiful pattern. In a wooden bowl there was an assortment of silver trinkets and precious beads. Many of them had belonged to Lady Catelyn. There were fish with mother of pearl scales; there were wolves heads and tiny five-pointed leaves.There was even a dragonfly something like the one Sansa had taken to King’s Landing.She sifted through them, considering how they might be used.

The dress must have its own beauty and character.Taking up needle and thread to make it would be a welcome distraction from her worries about Jon.Instinctively, she placed her hand over her abdomen, as if to shield the life inside of her.Her life and Jon’s would now be forever entwined, not unlike the vines on the cloth. Their child would inherit the North, and ensure that her parents and Lyanna would live on.

The thought filled her with a quiet joy.


	26. Under the Stars

Jon stood in the great hall at the Last Hearth, looking around in consternation.Edd and Tormund had already told him of the damage wreaked by the Night King and Viserion, but to see it for himself was stilljarring.Part of the roof had collapsed, leaving snow and rubble everywhere.Against one wall, the bones of body parts still formed a ring around the place poor Ned Umber had been pinned.He turned to look at Triston, who was staring in horror at the macabre display.

“We’d best have the men clean this up.At least we can bury the bones.”

Triston called to his men and those of Sansa’s Kingsguard to begin the grisly task, as he and Jon walked to the open courtyard, also littered with rubble.‘It will take many men to make this place habitable again,” he observed grimly.“We must send a raven to inform the queen.”

Jon nodded.“It’s taken more than two years to rebuild Winterfell, even with a good number of men at hand. I don’t think there’s much more to be done here now.I’ll be setting off for Castle Black in the morning.If Tormund takes the queen up on her offer, he may be able to bring some of his own people here.”

“Has he a wife and children?”

“Two daughters, I think.”

“Then you’ll send the Raven and we go our separate ways tomorrow.I must say I’ll look forward to seeing you back at Winterfell again, Lord Commander.”

Jon nodded.“You and the Lady Ursa have been a great help to the queen.”

“It’s not right what happened to you,” said Triston suddenly. “You saved the North. I bloody well would have liked to see you crowned again. Your name be damned.”

Jon looked down at his hands.“What’s done is done. And I was happy to leave that to my sister.”

“Your cousin,” Triston corrected.“Forgive me,” he added, “I spoke out of turn.My father was very fond of the Starks and of talking about their history.I’m afraid I’ve inherited that inclination.”

“No offense taken.”He studied the younger Lord Mazin’s youthful face, his disheveled hair and the faint stubble on his chin.“Westeros has changed; The North has a new Queen.Let’s hope we can all live together now.”

“Indeed. That’s what my father would have wanted.

~~~~

The road stretched like a frayed ribbon before him, cutting through the receding bands of snow. Jon was on the final leg of his journey to Castle Black.Only one more night of sleeping in a tent before The Wall would be welcoming him again like an implacable mistress.Of course a great deal had changed now, he mused to himself, and it was likely he would soon be leaving it behind for good.Jon wondered how Sansa was faring and whether she had received a raven from Bran yet.Perhaps she had been right in thinking that Bran would be quite indifferent to his leaving the Watch, so indifferent that he would even leave it all up to Sansa.In any case, they’d already set the wheels in motion.Maybe Bran had even “seen” them, he thought with embarrassment.

The days of riding had given him plenty of time to think about what had happened at Winterfell.He’d gone there half expecting to be shunned by the Northerners.Not by Sansa; she had sent occasional ravens asking about his well-being, but by the Northern Lords and the smallfolk.He had believed they would hold his Targaryen blood against him; that and the fact that he was now a “kinslayer.”Instead he had found the North quite unchanged under Sansa’s rule, except for the challenges posed by the toll the wars had taken.The bannermen that he'd had occasion to see again still held him in some regard.Lord Hornwood had even insisted he was more wolf than dragon.The experience had baffled him really, but he supposed it was because of Ned Stark’s memory and Sansa’s reputation that he was welcomed instead of vilified or forgotten.Notreally because of anything he himself had done.

Sansa.He had traveled to Winterfell with her on his mind.All they’d had left was each other in the time following her arrival at Castle Black.True, there had been disagreements, but they had stood together until he went to Dragonstone and everything changed.Sansa had never believed in Dany, it was almost a premonition on her part, it seemed.Dany, who had revealed a side of herself that Jon had never seen until they came North. A shadow side that wanted the throne at any cost. He hadn’t listened to Sansa, Arya or Sam when they’d tried to reason with him and then Dany had burned a city to the ground, consigning thousands to the flames.He would feel the horror and the guilt of that for the rest of his days, yet most Northerners cared little about what had happened there now that a Stark was king. His own men had participated in Grey Worm’s bloodbath -taking revenge on the Lannisters was sweet to them like it was to Dany.Jon’s faith in the goodness of Northerners was now tempered by his memories of what some of his own men had done.

Sansa had told him she'd believed he was going to his doom when she told the truth about him to Tyrion, as had Arya as well.It had been a desperate bid on her part to save his life and reverse the fortunes of the Starks in their dealings with Targaryens. _You were still a Stark to me_ , she’d told him.It was after the second time they were together, the newness of it still jarring him - because Sansa remained his sister in some corner of his mind.The Targaryens had always done such things without scruples, but to him and Sansa it was still a strangeness, and he wondered if his Targaryen blood was driving him. 

_“No,”_ Sansa had said. _“It’s only strange because we were raised as siblings.We really aren’t.”_ He could picture her there as though she was right in front of him.Lying on her side next to him, her skin light as milk, the flames of her hair framing her face. The enticement of the cleft between her thighs. The thought made his face burn as he rode North on the King’s Road.This was not like his love for Ygritte, who had known only the ways of the Freefolk.Neither was it like his desire for Dany, who had burned him like the sun.Sansa had the look of her mother, it was true, but she was now of the living North.

 _There is nothing beyond this life_ , he thought. That was what death had shown him, and what no mortal wanted to face.

Life was the blood that coursed through their veins.It was the white trees and the Wolfswood, the green of The Gift.The North lived in the Starks because they had made it so, and Jon thought it must be in their blood for he and Sansa to love each other.There was nothing beyond their bodies and the way they fit together.If the gods were real, that must be what they’d intended.They were here to serve the life that women and men passed to their children; that was their only immortality.Everything was rooted in the sacred renewal that he had almost allowed Dany to destroy. _A thirst for power twisted the proper order of things._ If he knew anything now, that was at the core of it.

Aye, if death had taught him anything, it was that one must live.His life had somehow been at its simplest when he’d been on the prowl with Ygritte, at least for a time.Coupling under the stars without much care as to who could hear them.The salty tang of her body, the freedom they’d found in living in the wide open North without the constraints that existed south of The Wall.But he’d been barely more than a boy then, and life among the Freefolk had an uglier side to it as well. After Ygritte had burned he thought he’d never taste that with a woman again.It was a youthful love to look back to with regret, but also with astonishment that it had ever been.

That night after they’d pitched their tents, the stars came out bright and clear.Tomorrow, he would see Castle Black once more; perhaps it would be the last time he would arrive there as a Brother of the Watch.If he ever returned again, it might be as husband to the Queen he hoped was his final love.


	27. Little Bird

“Little Crow!”The booming voice could only belong to one man.

Jon and his men had packed up their tents and barely begun their final trek to Castle Black when they spotted a lone horse coming South on the King’s Road.Even before he’d shouted, Jon had spied the telltale thatch of flaming hair that crowned the rider’s head.

Tormund rode a fine brown courser with a gleaming coat.He was attired in his usual assortment of hides and rough hewn wool, and his shearling boots were secured with strips of raw leather.

“Little Crow!”He shouted again as he came abreast of Jon’s party.Ghost rushed forward eagerly to meet him.He pushed his nose into Tormund’s knee, as the Wildling ruffled the fur between his ears affectionately. 

He and Jon both dismounted and embraced, with Tormund clapping Jon roughly on the back.

“What are you doing here?”Jon demanded with astonishment, as he drew back from his friend, grinning.

“Coming after you.”

Jon squinted at him in puzzlement as he motioned for his men to move forward.“We’ll catch up to you in a bit.”

The two old friends stood gazing at each other in the rocky expanse of the road.To the east werehills dotted with gnarled pine trees and scrub brush, and to the west a greening meadow lay at the foot of a mountain.A few thin bands of snow stippled the grasses. 

“What brought you to Castle Black?”Jon asked.

“I came to see you,” said Tormund.“But you weren’t there.” 

“For a visit?”

“Aye.And after I arrived two ravens came for you.One from the King.So I offered to carry them down the King’s Road myself.”

“From Bran?”

“What other King is there?” Tormund asked, his eyebrows raised.He studied Jon with curiosity.“What kept you away so long?Your sister, the Wolf Queen?”Tormund opened his coat and pulled out a doeskin pouch that hung around his neck.Out of it he drew two rolled up scrolls that he handed to Jon.

“My sister, yes.”Jon accepted the scrolls.One was sealed with the sigil of the Three-eyed Raven.The other appeared to bear the seal of House Mazin.“House Mazin?”he mused.“I just left Lord Triston at The Last Hearth.”

“That green boy with the smiling eyes?He could barely hold a sword when I last saw him,” Tormund scoffed.“What were you doing with him in that hellhole?You had to cross two rivers to get there and back.” 

“I’ll be telling you that,” said Jon, looking around him for a place to rest.In the grove to the West he spied a fallen pine, and the two men strode toward it, leading their horses by their bridles, with Ghost trailing behind.

They seated themselves on the half rotted trunk. Tormund looked on expectantly as Jon unrolled the first scroll which revealed an elegant script.

_Jon. King Bran has bidden me to write that the blood of Winterfell must live on. He said you will know of what he speaks. I miss you my dear friend. Be Well and may we meet again. Gilly, Little Sam, and your namesake are all thriving. Yours Faithfully, Samwell Tarly_.

“Did someone die?” Tormund rasped.

“No.It’s a personal message,” said Jon as he unspooled the second parchment and read its contents.His hand dropped to his side, and both scrolls fell to the damp earth.

“Well?” Tormund demanded.

“I must return to Winterfell at once.After I go to Castle Black for supplies, of course.”

“But why?What has happened there?”

Jon retrieved the scrolls from where they lay in the dirt and stuffed them into a pocket hidden in the sleeve of his cloak.“I’ll explain to you as we’re riding,” he said mounting his horse again.

Tormund’s voice was gruff as he grabbed his courser’s bridle.“I’m going South with you.”

~~~~

_Jon. Lady Ursa has kindly allowed me to write under her seal. Circumstances require that you return to Winterfell as soon as you are able. Our endeavor must move forward earlier than we expected. Be safe in your travels, dear brother. Sansa_

Before the warm hearth in his quarters, Jon read the scroll again and again with a growing disquietude. He had sent a Raven off to Winterfell as soon as he’d arrived at Castle Black, informing Sansa that he would be riding South almost at once.Ghost, tired from his many days of travel, was lying asleep near Jon's chair.

Finally, he tossed the parchment into the fire after reading it one last time. _It should not fall into the wrong hands_ , he decided as he watched it slowly burn to glowing ash, for he’d guessed what had likely provoked Sansa into sending it. Any kind of urgent political crisis was improbable - nothing like that had been brewing when he’d left her at Winterfell. There had been only the low rumblings about Sansa’s marriage, but even these were mostly quelled by her promise to gather the Lords in the near future.No, there was likely only one reason for her to write so cryptically about the necessity of their “endeavor” going forward. 

It was something he had feared would happen ever since he’d first been tempted by Ros’s beauty years before. But he was even more tortured by the image of Sansa facing the consequences alone.She had once confided to him that her pet name in King’s Landing had been _“Little Bird.”_ She did have that side to her, he thought.A vulnerability born of hopes and longings that others had cruelly exploited.He knew she didn’t want to reveal that part of herself to anyone, but he had glimpsed it all the same.Jon remembered the scars she had reluctantly shown him; as though she feared their presence woulddiminish her in his eyes.A Little Bird with scars on her body and on her soul, she had made herself naked to him. But that hadonly made her stronger in the end, and even made him love her more.It was part of the _why_ of the two of them, he knew.Sansa, the sister who had believed the tales of their childhood with all her heart. _I did too, until I understood what “bastard”really meant._

Sansa was crushed by life, as surely as he had been.The Knights and heroes they’d revered had fallen low, unmasked as figures of fancy and childish dreams.The truth of his father and his mother, as Bran had told it to him, was another tragedy in the end.Two people who had acted on their love in defiance of their houses, but their ecstasy had brought them blood and death.Sansa’s path and his were paths of disillusionment. 

_Little Bird and Little Crow,_ he thought darkly. _What a pair we make._

It suddenly occurred to him that he liked Sansa’s cooler side. True, it had been the bane of him at one time, when it felt as though she was second-guessing his every decision. Their arguments had been heated, their differences seemed unbridgeable.But many times she had been proven right.She _was_ right, he supposed, about what Robb had done, and Ned Stark too.The world was a dark place for little birds and bastards; that had been their lesson and something they should never allow themselves to forget.

Sansa had finally allowed herself to trust; in fact he’d let her decide, and now there was a price for that. _I’m to blame_ , he thought. Sansa’s resolve to rid herself of her past had gotten the better of her. _We should have waited. I should have been stronger.But it’s too late now._ He thought of her with their child inside of her.For a moment he allowed himselfto feel the joy of it.A son or a daughter who would inherit the Winterfell the North had bled to save.The child would be of the North, its lands and its people, and even of the gods he and Sansa no longer truly believed in.To hold their child in his arms, to share Sansa's bed and rebuild the North was more than he deserved after Dany.

A knock at his door startled him back to the present and the rough stone walls of his quarters.

“Come in,” he called out sharply.

Tormund entered, his red hair disheveled as always.His face wore a look of bafflement. 

“What is it?” he asked.

“You won’t believe it.Robett Glover is at the gate.”


	28. Glover

Robett Glover had changed little since Jon had last seen him at Winterfell.Tall and Gray, he presented a striking figure and still gave an impression that he was not to be trifled with.As Tormund had reported, Glover rode to Castle Black with twenty men and an unknown purpose.Jon had put on his cloak and Longclaw, all the while bristling at the memory of Glover’s refusal to fight at Winterfell.Ghost stood at his side, his ears back and his teeth slightly bared, as if giving the surprise visitor a warning.

Glover stood before Jon in the mud of the yard, his men ordered to wait outside the gate.

“Lord Glover.What brings you to Castle Black?”Jon’s voice was formal and wary.

“Lord Commander,” Glover replied with a hint of irony in his voice.“I came from Deepwood Motte to speak with you.”

“I was told you didn’t attend the Queen’s coronation.”

“I saw you give the North to a Targaryen. Forgive me for having lost faith in the Starks.”

“What do you want?”Glover drew closer, prompting Tormund and several of Jon’s men to move in from the sidelines with their hands on their weapons.Jon waved them back.

“I must speak to you in private,” said Glover.Take my sword if you like.”Jon studied the older man’s face, which remained impassive. He nodded to a guard to receive the weapon.

“We’ll speak in my quarters,”Jon’s voice was curt.

Soon the two were sitting uneasily across from one another with cups of ale brought by a steward. A low fire illuminated the rustic stone walls of the room Jon used to receive visitors.They had been few and far between since his return to Castle Black now that the political situation was so altered from what it had been in the past. 

“I came to see for myself if the rumors are true,” Lord Glover confided after a brief silence.“The rumors I’ve heard about you and the Queen.”He put down his cup and straightened his shoulders, his dark eyes boring into Jon’s.

“I might ask, my Lord, what is the reason for your sudden interest in The North’s affairs?The Queen tells me there’s been no word from you since you refused to fight with us.Her requests for your help in rebuilding Winterfell went unanswered.”

“You know very well why I refused to sacrifice my men.You gave your crown to a Targaryen.But perhaps I should not have been surprised given the truth about you. After all,a Targaryen would have no qualms over taking up with their own kind.”

Jon rose halfway from his seat in anger, but Lord Glover lifted a hand as if to mollify him.“Whatever happened between you and the Dragon Queen is not what I came to discuss.You paid for your foolishness, and your sister was installed in your place. But now I’m hearing something even more outrageous - that she plans to take you as husband.”

When I saw the two of you at Deepwood Motte; I wondered if there was something between you then.She’s a beauty, and that’s what your kind does, it seems.Still, I took her to be a steadfast woman in the time after you went to Dragonstone to consort with Daenerys. She held the North for you and did a fair job of it.”He took a long a swig of his ale.“There’s any number of better men for her than you, including among my own kinsmen.”

“And what difference does any of this make to you now?You’ve not been heard from for quite some time. Why should the Queen or any of the Northern Lords give a fig about your opinions when you stood back and let others bleed and die?The Starks and the Northern Lords burned their dead while you remained safe at Deepwood Motte.You really think the Queen has to answer to the likes of you?”

“Are you to be King again?As Aegon Targaryen?”

“I ask you again.What bearing does any of this have on you?Why are you here?”

“Lord Royce has requested that I send two of my children to foster at Winterfell.I want to know if you’re behind it.”

“I am not.I suggest you take it up at the gathering the Queen is planning.Your attendance would be a sign of contrition.”Glover’s face darkened, and he glowered at Jon in silence.

“Your refusal to help us against the Boltons is one thing.But your absence from the battle against the dead is quite another, and something the Northern Lords will find more difficult to forgive. It should come as no surprise that the other Lords are wary of you now.”

“You and your brother did not prove yourselves worthy of the crown we gave you.But Sansa - I believed she had more sense than the two of you combined.That is until I heard of this latest folly.If Lord Royce believes I’ll give over my children for the sake of more Stark recklessness, then he is mistaken.”

“Sansa has ruled well since she was crowned.And your house remains pledged to the Starks. The Queen’s decisions are hers to make.”

“Then it’s true.I thought as much,” said Glover, banging his goblet on the table.“And what has King Bran to say about this?After he sent you back to The Wall!Has he no respect for his father’s memory?”

“I can tell you, Lord Glover, that many of the Lords don’t share your thoughts about the Queen.I’ve just returned from Winterfell where I heard little more than praise for her efforts to rebuild the North.Being that you did not suffer the losses of the other houses, it’s not surprising you would think so little of her achievements.”Jon leaned back in his chair and placed one hand on the table.“I can’t speak on the Queen’s behalf regarding her decisions, or to Lord Royce’smessage. But I’d advise you to seek an audience about your position before this rift becomes irreparable.I’m sure your children would be treated kindly if it’s to come to that."

Jon stood up to signal that the conversation was over.Lord Glover rose and stalked past him, his face still perturbed.“I’ll tell the Queen you were here,” Jon said to the tall man’s retreatingback.He motioned to the guards who were waiting outside the door. “Escort Lord Glover back to the gate!”

“Well, what did he want?” asked Tormund as he ducked into the room..

“Information.”Jon returned to his seat and took a swig from his goblet. 

~~~~

Jon’s raven to Sansa was short and to the point.He wrote that he would make the return trip to Winterfell as soon as he was able.He also told her of the surprising visit by Robett Glover. He had sent scouts after the dissatisfied Lord in order to be sure he was not headed straight for Winterfell. In fact, it appeared he was returning with his men to Deepwood Motte, perhaps to brood over Jon’s advice.


	29. The King of Everything

Ursa’s needle glinted in the light as she stitched a fine seam into the bodice of the Queen’s new dress. The cloth was somewhat heavy, and required a thread which was thicker than what she was accustomed to using.Eira sat nearby, working on a sleeve, her head bowed in concentration.Both girls were wearing their braids pinned to the backs of their heads, lest a stray strand of hair fall over their handiwork.The dress was not yet complete, but taking shape nicely.

Sansa had decided the dress was to have a high waistline in order to accommodate her belly as it grew larger.There was no sign of that yet, thank the gods, but she knew it would happen before long.Her uncertaintyabout when she would actually wear this gown necessitated the design.Jon’s raven had informed her that he would soon be setting off for Winterfell again.Sansa knew the marriage should take place quickly, before her condition was discovered, but this was still far from guaranteed.She studied the embroidery on a cuff she’d been working on; rich with silver beading and tiny stitches, before returning to her work.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Eira rose from her seat to see to the goings on in the kitchens. Sansa’s sickness had become more manageable because of Maester Wolkan’s ministrations, but certain foods could still provoke her to nausea. Bland soups of turnip, barley and leeks, or chicken poached with berries were among the few dishes she could tolerate; therefore each day Eira tried to see that the cooks produced them, or close approximations.

“It will be a lovely gown, Your Grace,” said Ursa from her chair.“Will you wear it for the gathering of the Northern Lords, perhaps?”

Sansa put the cuff down again and beckoned for Ursa to come to the table.It had been two weeks and a handful of days since she had done Sansa’s bidding and sent the raven to Jon Snow without knowing its contents.Sansa was all but certain that the girl must have some inkling of her relationship with Jon because of her sharp intelligence, but Ursa had never mentioned a word about it, nor had she inquired as to whether Jon had answered. 

“You’ve sewn enough today.Come and sit with me.”Ursa stopped by the clay brazier on the hearth and picked up the heavy iron kettle. She then poured two cups of mint tea at the sideboard. 

“Eira said this is good for your health; won’t you have some now?”Ursa pulled out the chair nearest to Sansa and sat down modestly, her hands smoothing her skirts.Today she wore a dress of pale red linen that her mother had sent from Crossreach. Tiny decorative stitches in golden thread set off its neckline.Ursa was turning into a beauty, thought Sansa. Her hazel eyes and wheat-colored hair were enhanced by her gown, and its style hinted at a new maturity.

“You look well in that dress,” said Sansa.“I suppose that’s why your Lady Mother chose that color for you.”

Ursa flushed slightly.“She often uses her best bits of fabric to make things for me, I’m afraid,instead of for herself.Mother likes to work with dyes as Eira does.She goes to the woods with her servants to find the right plants.”

Sansa nodded and took a sip of the steaming tea; she then suppressed a yawn.“The mint you found has certainly served its purpose, perhaps some of your mother’s nature has rubbed off on you.” 

“Are you tired, Your Grace?You look a bit pale.Perhaps you should rest before dinner again?”

Sansa put down her cup and placed her hand over Ursa’s.“There’s something I must speak to you about.You have been more than loyal, and I’m afraid I must disturb you with more secrets.”

Ursa looked up from her cup and met Sansa’s eyes, her face troubled.“Your Grace?Are you ill?I’ve seen the Maester visiting you.I’m sure he can cure any malady.”

“No, I am not ill.”She took her hand from Ursa’s and leaned forward a bit.“You know, Ursa, don’t you, that Jon Snow is not really my brother?I always thought him to be, but then he learned that my father…”

“Yes, Your Grace.After he went back to The Wall the story was known everywhere.Although there were some who didn’t believe it.”

“It’s true.My Aunt Lyanna was Jon’s real mother.And his father was Prince Rhaegar.”

“But why did she go with him?Forgive me, but was she stolen away as they say?”

“No. She went off with him.They were in love.”

“I see.It was rather impetuous.”Ursa took another sip of tea and studied the tiny crush of leaves that swirled up to the surface.“I suppose the full story isn’t known.They must have had a purpose.”

“They must have,” agreed Sansa. “We don’t know everything that happened.In any case, Jon Snow is my cousin.He is a Stark as he always believed, but through his mother, Lyanna.” 

“Yes,” said Ursa.“It must have come as a terrible shock. He could have been King …of everything!”

“He could have.That’s what some wanted.” _Including me_ , she thought.

“I remember that day when we saw Marwah in the woods.She called him King, as many of the smallfolk are prone to do.An astonishing story he has, Your Grace.And for many reasons.”

“That’s what I must speak to you about.Because you are part of life at Winterfell now, you should be privy to the truth.”

Ursa’s face became more pensive.“Your Grace?”

“The Lords have been after me to marry, and I must do so.There must be an heir.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve chosen Jon.”Sansa rested both hands on the table and searched the younger woman’s face for her reaction.

Ursa’s golden eyelashes fluttered and her eyes dropped to the table.“I will be faithful to whatever you decide, as I am sure will my brother and our mother.Jon Snow is a good man, I have seen that with my own eyes.”Her voice faltered slightly.

“You’ve had no inkling of this until now?”

“My Queen, I have seen you and he are very close, but no.I would not have thought it of my own accord.”

“You can speak freely to me."

“Perhaps a little, but it’s not my place to make such judgements.And I believe you will have the Lords’ support.The North needs the Stark line to continue.”

Sansa nodded, pleased.“I must be heedful of the Lords.Your observation is reassuring to me.”

“My Queen, the dress is for you marriage.Now I see why Eira has been working so hard on it.And your design is perfect for a Northern Bride.”

Sansa suddenly remembered the guile of Miranda before her wedding to Ramsay Bolton, her feigned interest in the sewing skills Sansa had learned from Lady Catelyn. _Thank the gods I lived through that and came out the stronger_ , she mused.She felt grateful to have the company of Ursa and Eira before this marriage, which would offer a very different set of challenges.

“You must keep up your strength, though.I fear the preparations will make you more tired,” Ursa continued.

“There is a reason Maester Wolkan has been visiting me.”

“Yes, you’ve been fatigued.You must take care.”

“Ursa, you must keep this to yourself.I am with child.”

Ursa gasped and her face became flushed again.She looked at Sansa with widened eyes, and then fell silent.

“I’ve told you so that you and Eira can see to our best interests.I don’t know how soon Jon can return.I don’t know when our marriage will take place.Our child must be protected.”

“Of course Your Grace.I will do my best to aid you.And the Lord Commander.Forgive me if I appear shocked.It’s only that I didn’t expect this… You must guard yourself.”

“If all goes well, we will marry when Jon returns, and Winterfell will soon have a new heir.” 

“Aren’t you frightened?Thinking about the birth,” said Ursa apprehensively.Sansa wondered if Lady Ursaline had shielded her daughter from such things.

“I have Maester Wolkan.”

“Yes of course.Thank the gods.”

“Speak if there’s something troubling you.”

“It’s only that my Lady Mother advised me….”Ursa stopped herself in mid-sentence, and an embarrassed look crossed her face.“To save myself for my husband.”

“Your mother is not wrong.But don’t forget I’ve been married.The world is not always as neat and pretty as we might like, or as beautiful as the songs we learn as girls.”

“Yes.”

“Knowledge can be a dangerous thing.I would not have told you if I didn’t think you capable of understanding The North’s best interests.”

“Jon Snow - I feel he is worthy of your love.”Ursa rose from her chair and picked up the cups, now empty but for the shards of blackened leaves left behind.“He did what he thought was best for The North.”

Concurring with Ursa’s assessment, Sansa sighed and then nodded.“I hope one day he will be at peace with himself."


	30. Erena

_“We need to trust each other. We can’t fight a war amongst ourselves. We have so many enemies now.”_

Jon kissed her forehead as the snowflakes fell around them. _I couldn't lose Winterfell, or you,_ she thought as he walked away. _You could have died on that field, and we would have lost everything._

Later she had walked down the corridor to her parents’ rooms and the memories she knew were waiting. As Jon had promised, everything was scrubbed clean - the tables and chairs, the floors, the hearth.A fire blazed and the furs were piled high on the bed.Some dried flowers were placed on the mantle among the beeswax candles.Winterfell was theirs - the two who remained.

 _We will have our own demons, she thought._ Winterfell had been taken back, the price paid in blood. 

_Ramsay took my body, but he'll never have my soul._ That's what she told herself.

She found him back in his own modest rooms.Someone else had lived there in his absence, probably a minion of Theon’s or the Boltons. He was sweeping the floor with a tattered old broom.His bloody clothes were still heaped in the corner and Longclaw lay sheathed on the table; the ruby-eyed wolf’s head darkened by a smear of red. _Killing exacts a price._

Jon was startled. “Sansa,” he said,“There wasn't time to clean this up.” 

They stood looking at each other for a long moment. A gulf had opened between them, and then closed. They could never again be the same people.

Jon’s face was bruised and weary, but she had to speak.

“I can’t be alone in there right now” her own voice sounded small. It was impossible to convey her sense of darkness.

Jon put down the broom and drew closer.“I’m sorry,” he said.“This has been too hard for you. But he's gone now, and Umber and Karstark too.

“And you?” She asked.

“It’s strange to be back again, especially ..." His voice trailed off.

“It doesn't feel right without them."

“Aye,” he sighed.“But we’re here.You’ll come to feel at home again, Sansa.I promise you.”

“We had to do this.Do it or die trying.”Sansa’s voice held a hint of irony.

Jon nodded wordlessly, in that self-deprecating way of his.“It’s done.”

“I haven’t even cried for Rickon.” 

“I couldn’t get to him in time.” Jon’s voice was hollow with guilt.The death of their small brother, her mother's last child, felt unfathomable to Sansa, even though she had seen his body.There was too much to process, a relentless accumulation of losses they’d been powerless to stop.

They embraced in numb and wordless solidarity.For several days, Jon slept on a pallet in what had been their father’s solar, until Sansa felt more at ease. 

~~~

Her mind drifted back to the present.She stood on the battlements overlooking the fields which had hosted the battle for Winterfell.There was no longer any trace of the pyres on which the countless dead had burned; Northerners, Wildlings, Dothraki and Unsullied.Their ashes were now mingled with the soil, a testament to the ultimate destiny of all conflicts: eventually everything reverted to dust.

There was no sign of Jon on the horizon; it was too soon, but she could not keep her thoughts from him.A raven had come from Castle Black.Jon would return as soon as he could; Tormund had been found.Lord Glover had come calling. Jon’s scroll contained an unspoken understanding of their situation.She rested her hand on her abdomen as she drew a breath of cool spring air.The birds were singing and the sun was bright, yet the future was far from settled.

Her faith was in Jon, in spite of his occasional shortfalls in judgement. His actions were always grounded in good intentions.Sansa understood this all too well.Had things been different and he’d been able to live out his days free and wild with Ygritte, he may have done that.Had Dany’s better self been the one she’d given him and Westeros, a Targaryen may have reigned.But he would not have remained Dany’s lover, of that Sansa was certain. Instead, fate or the gods had given them the North, and now a child, and there was no returning from that. Sansa chuckled to herself as she remembered the way the two of them had once bickered. _Father was trying to protect us_ , she’d said. _He never wanted us to see how dirty the world really is, but he couldn’t protect me and neither can you, so stop trying._ Jon had taken that as affront. “ _I’ll stop trying to protect you if you stop trying to undermine me!”_ She heard his voice as though it were yesterday.Once she had balked at Jon’s determination to shield her from harm.

But Sansa knew there were times she had needed Jon’s protection, just as he needed her advice.Their conflict over Dany and their time away from each other had proven that, she thought. _Most of the Northern Lords have decided Jon bent the knee for the North, but I know the truth is more complicated._ Sansa had seenin Jon’s eyes that he had fallen under Dany's spell, just like Tyrion.Lord Varys had been more circumspect: he’d stayed with Dany only until there was a better prospect. Jon’s loyalty was always based on something different, like love or blood, and once given was almost impossible to break. That’s what made him worthy and perhaps that was the reason Varys had wanted him crowned instead of Dany.

 _But they lost their true king_.Her own words to Jon on the pier at King’s Landing suddenly came back to her. _True King_.It had been part rebuke and part admiration, she realized.Being brave and being true were intrinsic to the Starks; for Jon anything less would be a betrayal of himself.She remembered the men dressed in black, the choppy sea, Arya’s tears.Jon, attempting to be stoic in the face of it all. She’d hoped her words would make him see she had acted out of love. Parting had been bitter. So much was left unsaid.

“My Queen.”The voice brought her back to herself.Lord Royce approached.“I’m sorry to interrupt your thoughts. There’s been a disturbance at the East gate.”

“What disturbance?”

“Nothing serious, but of interest nevertheless.A young woman who claims to be Erena Glover, Lord Glover’s eldest daughter. She rode in with a servant.”

“What does she want?”

“To speak to you, I’m afraid. I could get nothing else out of her.She’s under guard in the Great Hall.”

“Do you think it’s about the raven you sent?”After hearing intimations of Lord Glover’s dissatisfaction with her plans for The Last Hearth, Lord Royce had advised Sansa it was best to act.Lord Glover was the father of four children that he knew of. The oldest son, Gawen, was already married to a Locke.But Erena, Onora and Braden Glover remained with their parents at Deepwood Motte.

“ _Demand that he foster two of his younger children with you.”_ had been Lord Royce’s advice. _“Glover will only grow more defiant with time now that he’s refused to show his face here.Best to bring him to heel while you still can.”_ A Raven had been dispatched in due course, but no response was forthcoming. There was only Jon’s report that Glover had spoken with him in anger at Castle Black.

“In truth I don’t know, Your Grace.”

“I’d best see what this is about.”

Erena Glover stood in a far corner of the Great Hall as Sansa came in with Lord Royce.They took their places at the front table, and the disheveled young girl came before them. Sansa motioned for the guards to step back.Erena, slight of build and wiry, was dressed in dark travel clothes that had seen many days of riding. She had wild look about her.Her blackish hair was in disarray around her pale face, and her boots were caked in mud.She curtsied perfunctorily. 

“Why have you come here? Do you represent your father?” asked Lord Royce suspiciously.

“I’ve come of my own accord, to see the Queen.”Erena Glover’s voice was clear, if quavering.

“And why is that?” Sansa inquired.“It’s a long way to ride on your own.”

“My father received your Raven.”

“So you’ve been sent by him to be the Queen's ward?”Lord Royce’s voice was skeptical.

“No, My Lord.To the contrary. He has forbidden that we be sent here - my sister and I.”

Sansa was perplexed.“I don’t understand.Then why have you come?”

Wiping her face with a grimy sleeve, Erena stepped forward.“If it pleases you, Queen Sansa, may we speak in private?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The situations of Lord Glover's children are not clear on the show. During season seven he mentions that he has a granddaughter. Erena and Gawen are his children in the books, and my story adds two more younger ones.


	31. Gift of the Gods

Sansa realized that she had seen Erena Glover before.It had been at Deepwood Motte when she and Jon had gone to ask her father for his help against Ramsay Bolton.Erena, a girl of about twelve at the time, had been standing at the top of the stone steps behind Lord Glover and the guards.A bedraggled boy of six or seven was clutching her hand.Both had watched silently beside the banner of their father's house, a red flag with a raised fist.Lord Glover had castigated both Robb’s memory and Jon’s army of Wildlings. He had then refused to help and sent Jon and Sansa on their way with angry words.

Erena now sat across from Sansa in the library, wolfing down a meal of cheese pie with bread.Although they would speak in private, guards were posted just outside the door at Lord Royce’s insistence.Sansa watched as the girl finished eating.Her heart shaped face looked pinched and drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her thick dark hair was long and unruly.In spite of the speed with which she ate, Erena remembered to wipe her mouth daintily with her napkin.She placed her hands in her lap and surveyed the shelves filled with scrolls and books, and the neat rows of tables with awe.

“Do you like books?” Sansa asked her with curiosity.

“We haven’t this many at Deepwood Motte,” came the nervous reply.“But yes, Your Grace.I always preferred books to sewing.”

“I don’t understand why you rode to Winterfell.Perhaps you can tell me now?”Sansa kept her voice even and her face neutral.“Your father received our Raven?”

“Yes he did.”

“And he doesn’t know you are here?”

“He didn’t know that I left Deepwood Motte.After the raven came, he rode for Castle Black to speak with Jon Snow.”

“Do you know why?”

Erena looked down at her lap.“He heard that….he heard that Jon Snow wanted to become King again.”

Sansa was silent for a moment.“Yes I suppose that would anger him. But how did he hear of it?”

“There’s been talk among the Lords is all I know.He doesn’t want a Targaryen on the throne.He went to confront the Lord Commander, even though my Lady Mother begged him not to.”

“I still don’t understand why you rode to Winterfell, Lady Erena.You came of your own accord?”

Erena nervously ran her fingers through her hair.“ I came to warn you of his dissatisfaction. I don’t want to die at Deepwood Motte.”

Sansa was incredulous.“You came against his wishes.This will anger him more.”

“Please don’t send me back, I beg of you.”Erena leaned forward in her chair, her face ashen.

“And Lady Sybelle? She knows you are here?”

“My mother sent her servant to ride with me.She is afraid for Onora and Braden.”

Sansa regarded Erena warily.Her thick cloud of dark, curly hair lent her a wild appearance.Somewhere in the back of her mind, the girl reminded her of Arya.Surely it had required true bravery for one so young to ride to Winterfell with only a servant to accompany her.But what would have provoked Lady Sybelle to let her go?Was she truly afraid that Lord Glover would do something rash enough to endanger his family?

“Erena, you and your servant will be given a room in our guest quarters.For your own safety, you’ll be kept under guard for now.”

~~~

“This is highly unusual,” mused Lord Royce, after Erena had been lead away to her new rooms.“What do you make of this, Your Grace?Could it be a trap laid by Glover?”

“I think the girl is telling the truth.Lady Sybellehoped to restrain him by sending her daughter.She must believe he might do something dangerous.”

“Or she seeks to appease you, perhaps,” said Lord Glover.“The girl is a bit of a savage thing in any case.I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s exaggerating her mother’s involvement.”

“Jon said Glover rode back to Deepwood Motte.”

“We don’t know whether that is truly the case, My Queen.I suggest that you send some men North to accompany the Lord Commander on the King’s Road.In the event that Lady Sybelle’s action has provoked him more.And remember, Lord Triston is still out there as well.”

A sense of dread gripped Sansa as she heard Royce’s words.He was right of course. Even if Glover was not laying a trap, Jon might now be in danger, and possibly even Triston.

“I’ll send a raven telling Jon to wait for my men.Perhaps he hasn’t left Castle Black at all yet.And Lord Triston - he may be back any day now.His scroll said there was not much to be done at The Last Hearth without crews of builders and masons.”

“Do you believe Jon Snow would set out for Winterfell again so soon, Your Grace?I’m sure he has many matters to attend to at Castle Black before he rides South for your marriage.For one thing a successor to him must be chosen.”

Sansa hesitated.She had not informed Lord Royce of her circumstances.“We are eager to settle the matter, given Bran’s Raven.I’m afraid he may ride sooner than anticipated.”

“Of course, I can hardly blame him.A Raven should be dispatched at once.”Lord Royce stood up and bowed.“I will send for Maester Wolkan immediately.And I must inform your captains to ready a contingent to march North.The men of the Vale will remain here and at your service in case you have need of them.”

~~~

After the scroll for Castle Black had been sealed and taken to the rookery, Sansa went to the Godswood.The breezes had died down and the afternoon shadows were lengthening slowly into evening.The Godswood was resplendent with fresh blooms, and the cool air was heavy with their perfume. Eira had insisted that Sansa wear a hooded cloak over her dress, albeit a light one. 

“It’s lovely out here, but too damp,” the maid complained.“I fear it’s not good for the babe.”

“Maester Wolkan had no objections. And I needed to come here; I’m worried about Jon.”

“Aye.But you might have gone to your Lady Mother’s Sept.The Seven will be listening as well.”

“I just need to think,” said Sansa.“Jon liked to come here too.”

“Of course, of course.”Eira came closer and adjusted the drawstring on Sansa’s cloak.“But you must take care; for his sake too.He would never forgive you if you fell ill.”

“Please don’t fuss.”Sansa said irritably as they approached the Heart Tree.“He knows I’m not made of glass.”

“But he is protective of you, as a man should be.Lady Ursa observed the same.”

Sansa fell silent as they stood under the tree and near the pool.The carved face was as inscrutable as ever, and was still dripping bits of red sap.Reminded of her dream, she shuddered.

Ursa moved off, a woven sack slung across her back.“I’ll be just over there gathering some flowers for your rooms,” she said with a quick glance over her shoulder.

 _Blood will out._ Sansa heard the voice of her dream again and imagined she felt the same flutter in her belly, even though Maester Wolkan had said it was too early for her womb to quicken.She had put the voice and the images out of her mind, occupied as she had been with the mundane details of her illness and more urgently, her worries about Jon. 

_Blood will out._ What could it mean? she asked herself.She wondered if the Gods themselves had come to her in the dream of the Weirwood.Eira and Ursa would certainly think so, and perhaps Lady Catelyn too.Her mother had never denigrated the gods of the North, but had encouraged her children to learn of both their parents’ faiths. _Father was of_ _the North_ , she thought, _and Mother was of the Riverlands._ _Why would the gods, if they exist, want to speak to me?_

 _It's in Your Blood._ Her mind seemed to conjure the words before she could even perceive them. On occasion, she and Jon had spoken of the Old Gods. He had told her he’d seen nothing when he went over the line between life and death.Sansa had supposed this to be the reason he doubted everything the likes of Melisandre or even the Wood’s Witch, Marwah, had said.Their prophecies were too vague to be of any use, he’d asserted more than once.

 _“But what of Bran?”_ She’d asked him.Her thoughts pulled her back to their conversation.They were lying in her bed after they’d coupled; the night before he had left for Castle Black.They’d spoken of the blood of the great houses and the power it held.Jon had said he sometimes wondered about it, but then he would remember there was nothing on the other side of death.

 _“The magic we know is in the Weirwoods and the direwolves…and the dragons.But that doesn’t mean there’s any other world waiting beyond this_ ,” he’d said. _“Perhaps that’s what Bran’s tapped into.”_ Jon had smoothed her hair back from her face and leaned over to kiss her. _“It makes this world all the more sweet,_ ” he’d added, kissing her again.

Remembering Jon's words, Sansa felt her heart was being pierced by love. She promised herself that she would do anything to protect their blood, their child.She swore it to the gods as well, should they be listening.


	32. Moon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa think of each other.

Moon tea had a bitterness that Sansa would never forget. Even as she relished the babe growing inside of her, thoughts of what taking the North had cost would often intrude.She had returned to Winterfell and agreed to marry Ramsay when Littlefinger had urged her to avenge her family.That was the circumstance that had lead her to drinking the tea.What might have been if not for Maester Wolkan?

The Boltons had been repugnant on sight, coarse and hard of manner.She had steeled herself for her wedding night, but without anticipating the extent of Ramsay’s depravity.The Hound’s words to her at the banquet echoed in her memory: _I heard you were broken in rough._ Her stomach still turned at the thought of it.Yes, broken in rough in her own home, in the place her parents had raised her to make a fine match one day.Sansa had pondered it many times - the near destruction of her family by evil.If no Stark had stood against it, all would have been taken - The North, Winterfell, and perhaps the entire Seven Kingdoms.The thread of honor carried by her father had nearly been lost.She had seen to its continuance.She would always see to its continuance, just as she had seen to the end of the Boltons. 

She and Jon must have more children.But this child would be guarded as though it was their only heir.In blood and water a new Stark would come into the world.It would be a world reimagined. Bran had hinted as much in his scroll. _The blood of Winterfell must continue._ In his words was leave for Jon to return and for them to start a new life.But Sansa had known that even before the Raven’s arrival. Yes, something in her blood had answered when she and Jon had lain together.It was like the song of direwolves or the deep silence of the Weirwood. The premonitions that were more the provenance of Bran.She and Jon must go to the Godswood often when he returned to her; for them it was a place of renewal, a place where they would remember what it was to be a Stark.

She had chosen him, or perhaps the old gods had chosen for her. 

Inviting him that night, before he’d taken her in his arms had been a choosing.She had taken the future into her own hands, just as she had when she’d uttered Jon’s name to Tyrion, or told Jon they must fight for Winterfell, lest everything be lost.She thought of being with him; his breath on her neck, her hands on his hips, pulling him closer.The taste of salt and the scent of sweat and the forest.The trueness of their union that had given them a child.Something he had not given Daenerys. Perhaps that was the price for the blood magic of the dragons’ birth; Jon had pondered the same. _Renewal would never come from a dragon._ Their magic held the seed of destruction.

When Sansa finally turned away from the Weirwood, Eira had doubled back to her, her arms full of wild iris and even a few late jonquils.The maid’s cheeks were pink from the brisk air and her brown skirts were dampened by the mist.

“I found some guelder-rose growing, and I’ve taken some bark.”Eira’s tone was pleased.“Maester Wolkan said we should have it on hand for the birth.”

Sansa nodded absentminedly.Eira was being schooled in midwifery by Maester Wolkan so that she might assist him when the time came. 

“Have you finished with your thoughts, Your Grace?”

“It does me good to be out here,” Sansa told her.“Starks should be close to the Weirwoods.”

“No doubt you’re right.It’s time for you to take your tea and your salves.Your belly isn’t troubling you?”

“Not at the moment.What will you do with all the flowers?”

“Some are for you and some for Lady Ursa.She’s been fretting about her brother.”

Sansa sighed in acknowledgement.“Lord Triston should be well on his way back to Winterfell by now.”Beyond the granite enclosures of the Godswood, they could hear the sound of the horses riding away.“That will be the men we’ve sent to ride North for him and for Jon, should they require our help.”

“I caught a glimpse of the Lady Erena.She’s a strange one.The kitchen girls say she is restless in her rooms.She asked to walk the grounds.”

“That wouldn’t be wise”, said Sansa.“Perhaps if she were guarded.Have you spoken to the Lady Erena’s servant?”

“He’s an odd one, Your Grace.He says very little.”

At that moment, Lady Ursa emerged from the thickets, huddled in a green woolen cloak and with her hair braided into a coronet, her favored style. 

“There you are,” she said anxiously.“Isn’t it time you returned, my Queen?The cook is making a pottage you’re sure to enjoy.And mustn’t she take her tea, Eira?”

“Aye, I’ve just told her as much,” said Eira as she glanced Sansa’s way.“Her gown is getting damp in this mist.It’s time to go inside.”

Ursa smiled thinly and nodded.“It is lovely and wild out here though.Very much like the Godswood at Crossreach.”

“The Northern gods are among us here,” agreed Eira.“It does us good.”Her freckled face revealed a pious affectation that made Sansa stifle a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said.“I didn’t mean to….“It’s just that you reminded me of someone.”

Eira chuckled in return.“Would that be your old Nan?You’ve spoken of her often.”

“It would,” replied Sansa.She looked back to Ursa who was watching the exchange with amusement.“It’s good to see you smiling, Lady Ursa.You should not worry so about Triston.Lord Royce has sent some of our men North to meet him and Jon.They may not even be needed, of course,” she added quickly.

Sansa linked her arm with Ursa’s as the three began to walk back to the archway.“And Eira has picked you some flowers.You must cheer up.We’ll all drink some tea.” 

“I’m sure I have,” replied Ursa.“And most of all because I see that you are feeling well.I hope that waifish girl hasn’t given you a fright.”

Sansa’s face darkened slightly.“No. Our men will see to Jon and Triston.Lord Glover is likely nothing more than a malcontent.”

“The Lord Commander must hasten back,” said Eira teasingly from behind them in a voice that was falsely deepened.“A man so handsome should not be alone.” 

Ursa giggled into the wool of her cloak, as even Sansa smiled at their levity. “Your Grace, we must finish your dress,” she said finally.“Perhaps it won’t be long before you require it.”

~~~

The Weirwood Tree at Castle Black was slightly beyond The Wall.Jon had trudged out to it with Ghost, recalling that it was near the spot where he’d burned Ygritte so long ago.She'd been beautiful as he he'd lit the pyre, with her shoulders bared and her red hair framing her face, white as the moon.For a moment he was lost in the memory of the flames consuming her and the void that she'd left in his heart.

The tree still stood.It was smaller than the great tree of Winterfell, but majestic nonetheless.Sansa would want him to visit it before he set out, he knew; no matter the real nature of the gods, just as they’d discussed.He knew the gods did not often answer prayers. No matter how worthy the request, or how innocent the petitioner of any ill intent. _Aren’t I the proof of that?_ Sansa once asked him, speaking of her marriage to Ramsay.It was always difficult for Jon to contain his anger - over Littlefinger, over Ramsay, over his own powerlessness.When he’d seen the marks on her back, he had first averted his eyes, but then forced himself to look. The horror of that, and then Maester Wolkan's words about the moon tea he’d provided each month would often disturb his thoughts of Sansa. _If I’d been there, it never would have happened_ , he would tell himself; even though he knew he couldn’t have been there.What had happened to Sansa had happened because of the Lannisters, because of the Red Wedding, because of the shit nature of this world.Sansa had suffered and he had suffered.Most everyone they knew had suffered.

Once he thought he could help right it, and that’s when he had died.

There was nothing but this.It had been hard telling Sansa, but she’d confessed that she already doubted.He could not protect her from what she had learned about life, albeit in a different manner than he. Surely being with Ramsay had been its own sort of death. They’d developed an affinity over that, their mutual sense of darkness.It had started on their quest for help against the Boltons. _This is all we have_ , she would tell him _. Our names. Our bodies._ _We will do this or we will die._ Even if he was a bastard.Even if she was defiled. They had to win.

He stood silently. He knew the Weirwood would give him no answers, but there was power in its presence.

Ghost stirred beside him and Jon turned to see Tormund approaching. "Are you ready to go back now?" He asked. "There's things to do before we leave."

After a last look at the Weirwood, and the place where Ygritte's ashes had rested before they'd been lost to the winds, Jon nodded. 


	33. The Pools

Illuminated by the rising sun, The Wall sparkled like diamonds.Jon stood looking at it as he waited for the horses to be lead out to Castle Black’s courtyard.He and Tormund would ride to Winterfell with twenty men. Four were men of the Watch who also had errands at White Harbor,and the rest were Wildlings who had been staying at Castle Black between their forays North of the Wall. 

Lord Royce’s raven concerning the arrival of Erena Glover at Winterfell, and the subsequentdispatch of men North on the King’s Road had arrived after Jon’s return from the Godswood and in the midst of their preparations.Clearly Lord Royce believed Glover might be planning an Ambush, but Jon dismissed the idea of waiting for Sansa’s battalion to arrive.That would put their journey off for almost twenty more days. 

Jon had not told Tormund of what he suspected were the precise reasons for Sansa’s Raven asking him to return to Winterfell, but he had confided that they planned to marry as the two had ridden North towards The Wall.

“ _It’s a political match,” Jon had explained.“She wasn’t pleased with the other choices.”_

_Tormund had stroked his beard thoughtfully at Jon’s words.“She’s a queen now, and she knows who she wants. You!”From his saddle he had clapped Jon across the back and nearly dislodged him from his horse.His face then turned pensive.“I hope this is the right thing for you. You and queens…I don’t know.”_

_“I was against it at first,” Jon told him.But I’ve come to think it’s the right thing.Sansa has no one else now.And we’re really cousins.”_

_“She is a worthy woman.You fought together.But you so close to a Throne again? That’s what you want?”_

_“I’ve asked myself that.I owe it to her and our family to build the North.And you can be a part of it too at The Last Hearth. We’ll make a different world.”Jon’s own words had sounded strangely familiar to his ears.After all, Dany had wanted to build a better world as well._

_“Or maybe we’re growing older,” observed Tormund.“And our fighting days are over.”_

_Jon’s voice had been uncertain.“I hope so.”_

Now Jon turned as Tormund approached from the stables, leading his brown courser. 

“Are you ready, Little Crow?”He asked lightheartedly.“You may never see this place again.”

“I don’t know. It’s not so far.And close to The Last Hearth.”

Tormund nodded. “Aye.I’ll need to find a woman soon.To run that place, if that’s to be my fate now..”

“There’s worse fates,” said Jon.“You’ll still have plenty of room to ride and hunt.You’ll always have a warm place to sleep.”

“And the Queen?Will she make you a King again?”

Jon shrugged.“That’s not important.” At that moment, their companions emerged from the stable yard with the horses.Jon’s black courser was lead to him, his few belongings packed in saddlebags. 

“We’re traveling light,” said Tormund to the other riders.“Good, in case there’s trouble.”

After he and the others had mounted their horses, Jon waved to the brothers who had assembled to see him off.Castle Black was just as undermanned as before the Night King had invaded, and the chain of command had become more informal.Jon had appointed his Master at Arms to take up his postuntil a new Lord Commander could be elected.The motley group returned his farewell, and his small retinue rode away, the gate closing decisively behind them.

~~~

Ursa hummed softly as she walked to the hot pools carrying a basket.It contained remnants of the blue damask, now destined to be the cape of the Queen’s wedding dress.Eira had thought them to be a tad too dark and insisted they should be rinsed in the steaming water of the pools.“That water will cure it properly,” she’d proclaimed as the two of them had examined the pieces of cloth they had laid out to cut.“That water has some kind of spirits in it.That’s why Maester Wolkan recommends it.” Reluctantly Ursa had agreed to see to the task herself, being that Eira was busy with the beading for the dress’s hem.Tiny seed pearls, also dyed blue, were being stitched all around the embroidered hem in the pattern of a leafing vine in order that it echo the weave of the cloth.The dress would be heavy, and the needlework was somewhat arduous because of its considerable heft. 

Ursa was certain Sansa would be beautiful in the dress, although they hadn't had the assistance of a real tailor to guide them.The gown would be rustic and somewhat loose fitting, yet heavy and elegant all the same.The high waist was threaded with a thick silken cord that could be loosened as needed and ended in tassels constructed of fine silk threads interspersed with tiny strands of pearls.The neckline was round and lower than what the Queen usually wore.There would be winter roses embroidered into the sleeves and cuffs and a matching cape that would trail on the floor as Sansa walked. 

It was a pleasant enough day and the sun was out in force.In the shade of the Ash and elm trees that surrounded the pool, light dappled the surface of the steamy waters.Ursa hiked her skirts up under her belt as she knelt with her basket beside her.The steam immediately moistened her face as she began drawing the cloth out of its container and dipping it into the water.

She was startled to hear a splashing sound coming from the next pool and even more surprised to see a shadowy figure seemingly immersed there.

“Hello?”She called out apprehensively.“Who’s there?” 

“It’s Lady Erena.She’s been given leave to bathe.”It was the coarse voice of Mauda, one of the servants who was accustomed to helping Maester Wolkan.

“What!” exclaimed Ursa.“The queen said she was to be kept in her rooms.”

Mauda emerged from the shadows.Her rough-spun dress was secured with a braided rope and her hair was pulled back from her face.“The guards are just beyond us in the guest’s quarters.The girl is ailing.”

“Whatever is wrong?” Ursa asked, advancing closer to the adjacent pool.Mauda stepped aside to reveal Erena Glover’s slight form, her knees drawn up and poking out of the water.Her dark hair, encouraged by the dampness, curled wildly around her face and tumbled down her shoulders. She stared at Ursa with widened eyes.

“Don’t be frightened.Tell me what ails you.”

Erena drew her knees in closer to her body and hugged them with her hands.“I’ve had the chills.”

“Aye,” exclaimed Mauda.“She’s not been sleeping proper. Must have been that long ride.Maester Wolkan prescribed the baths.”

“Tell me Erena, why did you leave your mother?” asked Ursa. 

Erena ran one hand through her unruly tangle of hair and shrugged. “I’ve told the Queen what happened.My Lady Mother sent me here just as Lord Royce demanded.”

“But Lord Glover didn’t know?”

“He’d gone off to speak with Jon Snow.”

“Your Father broke faith with the Starks.”

“Because Jon Snow bent the knee,” Erena said irritably.To the dragon queen.”

“Perhaps he should reconcile himself to our new queen, and forget about the past.Jon Snow had a terrible dilemma when he was facing the Night King.Your father stayed at Deepwood Motte while many bled and died here at Winterfell.”Ursa glanced back towards her basket of cloth.“He is fortunate to have the offer to send you to us as a ward.The queen is kind.”

“Father said she’s to marry Jon Snow and mix her blood with a Targaryen’s.That’s what he really is,” huffed Erena.

“My Lady, the girl is exhausted, and speaking nonsense,” said Mauda.I must help her out of the pool now before she burns up.”

“Then do so,” said Ursa as she squared her shoulders. She turned back to Erena.“But I would suggest that you hold your tongue about Jon Snow.We owe him our lives.Why wouldn’t his sacrifice at King’s Landing suffice for your father?”

As Mauda held out a large linen towel, Erena rose from the water.She was bone thin and small breasted.A sparse patch of dark hair covered her sex.

“Have you bled?”asked Ursa.“If you’re lucky the Queen will make you a match and save you from your wretched father.”

Erena wrapped herself in the fabric and shook her dark curls.“Yes, Lady Ursa.But I wish more than anything to return to my mother and my brothers and sisters.”She lowered her gaze in dejection.“I’m nothing more than a bargaining chip now, I suppose.”

“The Queen would not marry you off against your wishes,” said Ursa hastily.She took a step forward.“I’m afraid I’ve frightened you.You must rest and recover your strength.”

“Lady Ursa, do you think House Glover and House Stark will be at war?”Erena looked up again. Ursa could see the dark circles under the girl’s eyes.

“No Erena, of course not.Once your father learns that you are here with the Queen I’m sure he will come to his senses.Put on your clothes now, you must go back to bed.Mauda, you should fetch Maester Wolkan again once she’s back in her room.We’ll speak again Erena, when you’re better.”

Ursa stepped back to the first pool, where her basket lay, and resumed her task of rinsing and wringing out the swathes of fabric.Under her eyelashes she watched Erena and Mauda retreat back to the guest quarters.Erena walked slowly and stiffly, almost like an elderly woman, as Mauda followed behind with the damp towel slung over her arm.The young girl stumbled on a stone and the maid caught her before they disappeared from sight.

Ursa sighed and leaned back on her haunches as she finished her wringing.The thought of Lord Glover was troubling, and she hoped with all her heart that Triston and Jon Snow were safe from any ill-will he might be harboring.Her own father had spoken of Lord Glover with derision before he had died because of his refusal to help defend the North.Ursa wondered what his motives might even be.Was the man truly so disdainful of Jon Snow’s Targaryen blood that he would try to harm him and risk Sansa’s certain retribution?She shuddered at the thought of what might transpire on the King’s Road.Surely Triston would return soon, and then Jon Snow.

 _The world is indeed a strange place_ , she mused as she gathered up the piles of damask.Ursa had seen with her own eyes the closeness of Sansa and Jon, but it had taken her Queen’s own words to recognize the obvious - the two were in love and had even conceived a child together right under everyone’s nose. Ursa blushed at the thought of what her mother, Lady Ursaline would say if she knew.Ursa, as of yet, knew little of the ways of men and women who professed to be in love.At Crossreach her eyes had sometimes rested on a handsome soldier or stableboy, but her mother had always guarded her and her sister Millie from seeing or hearing too much about such things.They had spent many happy afternoons sewing in the house or gathering flowers in the meadows.Once, a serving girl had gotten herself with child and had been sent away with a few coins so that the children of the house would not have to see her. _You must never lie with a man before you’re wed,_ Lady Ursaline had warned.

 _But Sansa is twice married and a queen_ , thought Ursa. _Who can touch her_?She remembered the private look Jon had given Sansa in the field after Sansa had asked her to stay at Winterfell.Ursa had turned away, but somewhere in herself, she had known what it meant. She wondered whether Sansa cared about Jon and Daenerys Targaryen.“He was lost after he came back,” Triston had surmised one day when they’d discussed the Dragon Queen over tea.“How could a man help himself in the face of such beauty?”

Ursa had blushed and told Triston about the look that Jon and Dany had exchanged in front of the funeral pyres at Winterfell.“A man might have several women over his life,” Triston had asserted.“It’s in our blood to do so.”

“But he was our King,” She’d replied uncertainly.

Ursa was roused from her thoughts by the voice of a stable boy behind her.

“Lady Ursa, Lord Triston has just come through the gate!”

She picked up her basket and ran.


	34. Clove and Almond

Triston bowed before Sansa in the Great Hall. Servants had brought out the carved direwolf chair that had been made for her crowning in order for it to be polished, and for now it remainedfront of the hearth.She’d been seated there, speaking to Maester Wolkan and Lord Royce, when Triston came in, just arrived from his journey North.

“Lord Triston.We’re so relieved to see you back.Your sister will be overjoyed.”Sansa smiled at him.“Was your ride South uneventful?”

“It was, Your Grace.We saw very few travelers on the King’s Road.”

“I’m glad to hear it.We’ve had word from Jon that Robett Glover paid him a visit at Castle Black.”

Triston looked perplexed. His hair had grown longer since his departure and he now had the beginnings of a scraggly beard.“We saw no sign of him, Your Grace.Has there been trouble?”

At that moment Ursa burst through the doors, her hair damp and disheveled.At the sight of her brother, she dropped the basket she was carrying and hastened towards them.“Triston!I’ve been beside myself!” she cried, as the two embraced.“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she added, turning to Sansa with a curtsy. 

“Not at all; we’re all delighted he’s returned.You must tell us about the condition of The Last Hearth once you’ve had a chance to eat and rest, Lord Triston.I’m sure Lady Ursa wants tosee to your comfort.”

After the two had departed for their rooms, Lord Royce remarked that Triston’s arrival was a good sign.“Perhaps Glover did return to Deepwood Motte, after all, Your Grace.”

“But by now he’s heard that Erena is at Winterfell,” said Sansa. 

“Yes, we must remain vigilant all the same, “ said Lord Royce.“And Maester Wolkan tells me the girl is ill now.”

Sansa turned to the Maester.“Is this true?What is wrong with her?”

“She appears to have caught a chill from her journey, Your Grace.I’m seeing to her care. She should recover after a few day’s rest.”

“You must watch over her, “ said Lord Royce skeptically.“I wouldn’t put it past that one to be plotting one thing or another. The circumstances of her arrival here are suspicious.”

“Of Course,” replied Wolkan.“She’s still under guard.But she’s weak just now.”

Sansa rose from the direwolf throne.“Do everything necessary for her.Make sure she has what she requires.I’ll see you both at supper.”

~~~

While in her rooms preparing for the meal, Sansa realized her nausea hadlessened. Eira had drawn a bath, and as she undressed, Sansa noticed that her waist was thickening.Her breasts seemed larger too, and were painful to the touch as she undid her smallclothes.Eira tried to help her into the bath.

“That’s not necessary,” said Sansa irritably.“I can certainly step in without help.”

“You don’t want to fall,” retorted Eira.“I think you’re changing a bit, Your Grace.Soon you’ll be showing.”Eira’s brow was creased with concern.“Shall I fetch Maester Wolkan?”

“No. It will come as no surprise to him.And I do feel a bit better actually.Best to carry on as usual.”

“You’ll have to eat properly now that you’re able.”Eira bustled around the room, gathering laundry and setting out fresh towels.“Ursa is seeing to the cloth for your cape,” she went on.“It should be finished in a few days time.And later you should try on your dress.”

Sansa sank into the steamy water and closed her eyes. Eira was truly a help, but sometimes she wished to be left alone with her thoughts.“I’m fine, Eira, really. Won’t you go down and see to the soup the cook’s making?Make sure it’s not overly spiced.”

“Aye,” I will.“Just as soon as I’veproperly washed your hair.”The maid brought a pitcher andbucket from the corner along with a lump of a special soap she’dmade. It had a pleasant scent, unlike the plain tallow sort that most northerners used.

“It’s made with glasswort ash,” Eira explained.Lady Hornwood brought a batch with her from White Harbor when she was here. Glasswort grows in the salt marshes."

“That was kind,” said Sansa

“I added some clove and almond oil.”Eira asserted confidently.“I’ve put some aside for your wedding night.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and immersed herself deeper into the bath.“I suppose I’ll be too tired or too fat by then to care.”

“The Lord Commander may enjoy the scent. Clove and almond."The maid finished rinsing out Sansa’s hair and left it draped over the edge of the tub.“I’ll check on the soup now.”

After Eira had left for the kitchens, Sansa spent a few more moments relaxing in the hot water.She smoothed her hands over her belly, partly in wonderment and partly in dread.Eira was right; soon there would be no hiding her condition.If Jon were here and they were married, they would rejoice together over the new life they’d started. _I could take his hand and show him where our baby grows inside me.We could be together all night and not have to hide it.The North would be rejoicing with us._

She got out of the tub gingerly.After drying herself, she put on clean linens and stepped into a dove colored gown that laced up the side.The dress did indeed fit more snugly than it had only a week or two before.She hastily braided her damp hair and pulled on a pair of gray boots.The dress they’d made was laid carefully over the back of a chair, not quite finished yet; but its final shape was apparent.Sansa lifted it by the shoulders, studying the high waistline that would allow for her growing middle.She laid the gown back over the chair and picked up one of its embroidered sleeves, before dropping it again. 

It was necessary for a queen to have a beautiful dress, and this one surely was.Lady Catelyn would have approved of the cut and design; it was fit for a highborn woman yet true to Northern sensibilities. Delicate silks would be out of place here.In fact the color and heaviness of the cloth reminded Sansa of a dress her mother had often worn. _She must live on through me now_ , she thought. _It’s left to me to carry on the Stark name.And to Jon._

There was a light knock and the door to her bedchamber cracked slightly to reveal Lady Ursa.“May I come in, Your Grace,” she said, opening it wider.

“Come in. Is everything well with Triston?” 

Ursa glanced at the copper tub.“Yes, he’s bathing as well.He’s a bit tired I’m afraid.”

“You must be relieved to have him back.”

“Yes, I must send a raven to our mother at Crossreach tomorrow. I’m sure there will be word of the Lord Commander before long.The battalion that Lord Royce sent will no doubt reach him shortly.” Ursa came closer to Sansa and gestured toward the blue gown.“Is it to your liking?We’ve chosen the pieces for your cape, and it should be ready soon.”

Sansa nodded.“Yes, I’m pleased.”Ursa looked down at the floor before raising her eyes to Sansa’s.“I must tell you, Your Grace, that I saw Lady Erena at the hot pools today.”

“I’ve been told she’s not well.How did you find her?”

“She’s feeling rather ill. The poor thing looked quite weak.If I may say, she spoke of Jon Snow.” 

“In what context?”Sansa took a wooden box from the mantle and pulled out her dragonfly necklace before returning it.

“Here, let me help you fasten that,” said Ursa, stepping behind her.“Erena made mention of Lord Glover’s concern that Jon Snow is a Targaryen.She said that is the reason for his anger.”

“Yes, she more or less said the same to me.”

“A pity he can’t see past that.Jon Snow grew up here and has a Direwolf like the rest of you did.He’s proven himself loyal to the Starks.I told her as much.”Ursa came forward and stood in front of Sansa again.“In any case, her views matter only as a reflection of her father.Lord Glover seems to stand alone in all this.”

Sansa concurred.“The others support us so long as our children will be Starks. In fact, we first heard the notion of our marrying through Lord Hornwood. Glover went back on his pledge when Jon bent the knee.”

“Has the Lord Commander told you his reasons?

Sansa walked to her bed and picked up a woven shawl.“His motives are still not entirely clear to me or even to himself.I think he was mistaken about Daenerys’s intentions.Like the others around her. Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys.”

“Of course our very survival was at stake,” said Ursa.“Daenerys had armies and dragons.”

Sansa drew her shawl around her shoulders and sat on the bed, beckoning to Ursa to sit beside her.“Men do foolish things for women.Like my brother, Robb.Like Rhaegar Targaryen.We women must be smarter.”

“Are you saying men are unworthy?” 

“They are more apt to be ruled by their passions, are they not?Much of the time.”

“Perhaps, Your Grace.My own brother Triston has told me that a man may have many women.They sometimes can’t help themselves.Not that Triston would know, of course.”Ursa blushed.

“For Jon it was something else.”

Ursa looked perplexed.“Something else?”

“Jon is like my father.Driven by his sense of what’s right.Of honor”

“As are all Starks, I believe.”

“But that doesn’t always make it easy to know the right thing to do.Especially against cunning opponents.”

“They say that Jon Snow…”Ursa stopped in mid sentence.

“Go on, please.It’s alright.”

“They say he and Daenerys were lovers.”

“They were. Before Jon knew of their blood tie."

Ursa’s voice faltered.“But is that not why he bent the knee, perhaps? 

“Jon is a good person.He believed her to be worthy of his trust.”

“A terrible thing, what happened in King’s Landing.”Ursa’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and her face filled with dread.“All those people burned.”

“Jon didn't know she would do such a thing. It almost destroyed him.”Sansa put her hand on Ursa’s.“We love each other.We did even before Jon learned the truth…as brother and sister, of course.I couldn’t have become Queen without him.”

“I don’t doubt it.As much as I admire him, I’m troubled by his past with her.For your sake, Your Grace.Not because I believe him to be unworthy.”

“Do you know of my marriage to Ramsay Bolton?”

“I’ve heard he was a horrible man. As was his father”

“He was a monster.I can’t speak of the things he did to me, but Eira could tell you of the marks he left on my body.”

Ursa covered her mouth with her hands, and then folded them in front of her.“I’m sorry, Your Grace.I heard only rumors, and nothing I would ever repeat.”

“I must have children, and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone ever touching me again.Now do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“But I do love him.Much more than I expected to.He’s been hurt too.”

“Yes.Because of what he had to do.”Ursa bowed her head.“it’s very sad.”

“Our lives have been almost nothing but sorrow since we left home. I hope things will be different now.For everyone.”

“My family is at your service.And Jon Snow’s.I know my brother feels the same.”

Sansa patted Ursa on the shoulder with a smile.“I’m so glad you came to Winterfell, Ursa.Now shall we go down to dinner?Eira promised the cook is making a good meal, and your brother must be famished.”


	35. A Dark Place

The next morning, Ursa persuaded Triston to help her find more water-mint.A ravenhad been sent to their mother at Crossreach, and the two were left with time on their hands - a rare occurrence since they’d been called to the queen’s service.

“Let’s go riding by that little stream again, we’ll be back before anyone will even miss us. It’s not so far past Wintertown, and the mint growing there is exceptional.Maester Wolkan himself praised it.”

Triston called for their palfreys to be saddled, and they went out the East Gate with two of their own men following behind.It was a brilliant day for riding, with clear skies and a soft breeze.Ursa had donned a brown woolen dress and matching cape, while her brother was wearing a blue doublet and cloak, his longsword strapped to his waist.

“What’s gone on here since I left you?”Triston asked after they entered the edge of the wood. “Lord Royce told me last night the Queen is to marry Jon Snow.”

“Yes, it’s true.There’s been no formal announcement.Jon Snow made no mention of it to you on the King’s Road?”

“No.We spoke of many things,but not that.It’s a bit sudden is it not?But I suppose the Northern Lords will come to accept it. Any misgivings will be forgotten whenQueen Sansa gives the North an heir.”

Ursa considered his words. “The Queen told me the very idea originated with some of the Lords - Hornwood was one of them, I believe.They want the issue of succession to be settled, and they knew of Her Grace’s qualms about marriage; perhaps from the lips of Lady Hornwood herself.The only known opposition is from Glover.”

Triston nodded. “The Northerners are pleased that Bran Stark is King; and it’s all thanks to Jon Snow.Bran allowed Sansa to keep the North, and now he’s sent a Raven giving his blessing to the marriage.Still, she could have chosen from among the Lords’ sons, could she not?”

Ursa glanced at Triston as she shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “She has her reasons.It’s just as some of the Lords surmised; she is wary of unfamiliar suitors.”

Triston’s face was pained.“Yes. She is fortunate not to have had a child by Ramsay Bolton.”

“Indeed,” said Ursa with a sigh.

“So the Queen has confided in you about these matters?”

“Yes, about some of it.She and Jon understand each other.That seems to be her reason.”

“Most Northerners don’t give a fig about what happened to the Dragon Queen.Jon Snow is still the White Wolf in their eyes.”Triston’s voice was adamant.

“Perhaps, Triston. You share our father’s love of the Starks; not that it isn’t warranted.”

“Glover is a fool.”

“I hope not a dangerous fool.Perhaps you are right, though.Bran is now King because of what Jon did.The North’s position has vastly improved.The Lords will likely give their support to the two of them. Above all, they are practical about such matters.”

They had ridden into a heavily shaded area where the trees formed a thick canopy overhead.“Where is this bloody mint you’re after?”Triston demanded with a chuckle.“Is this the place?”

“It grows along the stream there,” said Ursa, pointing it out to him. “Remember, the bridge is just ahead.”They stopped their horses, and Ursa dismounted, taking her saddlebag.The edge of the brook was lush with greenery and as she stepped closer, she scanned the vegetation.Triston stood apart watching her, his posture relaxed, and their men remained on their horses.

Suddenly there was a whoosh of arrows, seemingly from the thickets upstream.One of the guards cried out and fell from his horse, while the other jumped from his saddle and rushed for Triston and Ursa, his sword drawn to protect them. 

Triston shouted as he unsheathed his own longsword.“Ursa, get down!”He ran to her and dragged her behind a tree, just as their second man was struck in the throat and fell.But within seconds several figures emerged from the brush with their bows drawn, forming a half-circle around them.Ursa’s breath came thick and ragged as Triston stepped in front of her.

A burly man emerged from the throng of archers brandishing a sword with a bronze hilt.His face was broad and scarred; his head bald. “Drop it, Boy!" the man leered at Triston.“Or I’ll take your head off!”Triston took a step backwards, his ankle brushing against Ursa’s, his sword still raised.

Thearchers advanced on them. “Don’t be a fool. Drop it or we’ll kill you both!”Triston tipped his blade up and tossed the sword at the man’s feet.Ursa grabbed her brother by the wrist.

“Who are you?” Triston demanded.“How dare you attack us so close to Winterfell?”

“You’re from Winterfell then, are you?Lord Glover will be pleased.”The man motioned to his accomplices “Take them.”

Before Ursa could think, her wrists were tied, and she was being pushed towards her palfrey.“How dare you?Don’t touch me!” she cried out as she stumbled and almost fell.They shoved her closer to her horse, until she stood next to it.

“You aren’t Starks. Who are you?And it had best be the truth.”The burly man drew closer, until Ursa could smell his sweat and his oniony breath.Ursa glanced behind her at Triston, who had also been tied.A man him kicked him forward.

“We are of House Mazin.What could Lord Glover possibly want with us?I demand that you release my sister at once before the Queen’s men miss us!”

The burly man laughed. “Stark lovers. Now we have to take you so as you won’t go running back to your wolf- queen.”

~~~

The sun streaming in through the shutters finally roused Sansa from a pleasant dream.In it, all her siblings had been together, playing in the courtyard of Winterfell.Robb, Arya, Rickon, Bran, Jon and her; all children again, their faces clear and distinct.They ran, and chased one another, all the while laughing. As she woke, the dream receded, although her mind tried to hold onto it.

She got up and stretched her arms over her head, yawning deeply. Although it was late,Eira had not come in yet, and Sansa could feel the chill air through her thin linen shift. She realized that in the wake of the dream she’d forgotten the trials of the present: Erena Glover’s arrival, for one; and the baby she now carried, along with Jon’s absence. _Any strength I possess is gleaned from Winterfell_ , she mused. _Without my memories, what would I be?_ She thought it must be the same for Jon; Why else would he have saved the Starks from Dany?

That had been long before anything had happened between them _._ When Daenerys had arrived at Winterfell, she had come to Sansa in the library to talk.Sansa remembered the queen had gone on about her goal of taking the Iron Throne, of regaining what was stolen from her family. _But when it came to my own feelings about the North, she had no empathy._ That was when Sansa had known Dany would try to undo what she and Jon had achieved.Jon was somehow under Dany’s spell; blind to her ruthless side.The side that wanted to win at any cost. _The North was only a prize to her._ If there was one thing Jon was not, it was manipulative.But Dany had implied that Jon manipulated her into coming North.She could have cost them everything, and certainly Jon’s life.

Sansa drew her shift over her head and studied herripening belly.It made her remember her fevered coupling with Jon the night before he’d gone to Castle Black.Though she’d persuaded him to think about their marrying, a part of her had not been certain it was right until their second time together. In her mind, she relived their kisses and his touch. She was sure their child was conceived that night, after their walk in the godswood; and their growing sense that the very North was inciting them to lie together. _I’ve emerged from a dark place,_ she thought. _The world can be green and new once Jon is safely home._

She threw on fresh smallclothes and donned a blue dress.The dove colored dress she’d worn last night at dinner lay crumpled on the floor alongside her gray boots.She picked through the piles of clothing to retrieve her necklace and fastened it hurriedly around her neck. After brushing her hair out loose, she found her shawl and went into her solar.Eira had just come in with a kettle of water and was setting out a plate of bread and figs.

“Did you sleep well?” the maid asked.“The dinner was full of talk.”

“Yes, we heard all the news of The Last Hearth from Lord Mazin.But I slept well.”

“Good.You must take care of yourself.Are you sure you’re warm enough in that shawl?”Eira glanced Sansa’s way as she tossed a log on the fire.

“Yes.”Sansa went to a chest and took out the beaded collar that was originally meant for a dress they’d stopped working on.It had as its base a heavy linen and velvet form that had been filled with wool batting. Onto it, Sansa had embroidereda variety of nature elements in muted colors: tiny wolves, fish, and leaves.She had finished it off with delicate beads of shell or glass, and a few silver trinkets of Lady Catelyn's that she’d found behind a hearthstone.“I’d like to wear this as well,” she told Eira.Parts of it were my mother’s”

Eira took the collar from her and nodded.“Aye, this will do nicely.I’d forgotten about it.”She turned the collar over in her hands, and its beads glinted in the light. “Lovely, it is.”

A loud knock on the door interrupted them.“Come in,” Sansa called out.The door burst open to reveal Maester Wolkan.He stepped into her solar, his face troubled.

“Forgive me, Your Grace; but it seems that Lady Ursa and Lord Triston have been taken.”

Sansa gasped.“Taken?By whom?”

“We don’t know Your Grace.One of the Mazin guards was found in the Wolfswoodwith an arrow through him, and another was grievously wounded and left for dead.He said Lady Ursa was looking for an herb when they were attacked by a band of baseborn thugs.”

“What!Why were they out there alone?”Sansa clutched at her shawl, her mouth agape.

“They must have ridden out there early this morning.They told no one but the stableboys, and the guards let them go.”

“We must go after them!”

“Lord Royce already has sent some of his men out. He fears it may be Glover trying to draw your Kingsguard out of Winterfell.He’s likely heard about Lady Erena by now.”

Sansa exchanged her shawl for a heavier cape and started for the door. “Her guards must be doubled at once.”

She and Maester Wolkan hurried downstairs to speak with Lord Royce.


	36. Captive

Jon stood outside his tent looking at the night sky. There had been a light snowfall in spite of the gradually warming weather.Tonight it was cloudy and there were few stars to be picked out of the inky blackness.Tall pines surrounded the camp, and the fires that had been lit weredimming.

Jon hoped it would be a long while before he had to see the inside of a tent again.His time ranging North of The Wall had brought him a respite in some respects, but he was glad to be moving on. For Tormund, it wasn’t as certain. Relocating to The Last hearth might not give him the life he wantedBut then again, as Tormund himself had said, they were both getting older and weary of roaming and fighting.

“It will change us if we have to settle South of The Wall,” he’d said.“I’m not sure I can stay in one place.But I’ll try, Little Crow.If you can do it, maybe I will too.”

Jon had laughed, but there was truth to be gleaned from Tormmund’s words.Given a generation or two of living in the South, the Wildlings who came there would be changed irrevocably.Perhaps that was even what Sansa had in mind by offering Tormund a castle, not that there was anything nefarious about it.Wildling bannermen would serve the crown but also act as a bridge to their own people who lived beyond The Wall again.

Ghost appeared from a grove of pines, the fur around his mouth bloodied.Jon caressed the direwolf’s head roughly and grasped him under the jaw.“You’ve found a meal then, have you?” He asked.Jon picked up a handful of snow and tried to wipe the blood off.

The Wolf nudged Jon hard on the side of his face, and he fell over with a chuckle. Apparently sated by his meal, Ghost ambled into the tent, most likely to sleep for awhile.

Jon figured they were four or five days from Winterfell.Four days ago, they’d met up with Sansa’s regiment.Before that and since, the journey had been uneventful.Only the late snow had slowed them down; and not any interference from Lord Glover, as Sansa feared.

Jon wasabout to crawl into his bedroll when Tormund approached with one ofSansa’s captains.Tormund looked more serious than usual.“The scouts saw an encampment a few miles southwest of here,” he announced.

“Who are they?”

The captain stepped closer. “They are lowly and carry no sigil, but one of the men spotted a woman among them who looks to be highborn. They are well-armed.”

Jon stroked his beard in puzzlement. “A highborn woman?Did they get a good look at her?”

“No, except they believed her to have yellow hair.The baseborn were guarding her closely.”

“How many men are there?”

“Not more than ten or twelve.They looked to be headed northwest.We’ll watch their movements.”

After the captain had walked away, the snow crunching beneath his boots, Tormund opened his wineskin and offered Jon a swig.“What do you think?Does it have to do with Glover?”

Jon took a drink, and then returned the skin to Tormund.“The woman among them is suspicious. What drifters would dare take a noblewoman?”

“Could she be from Winterfell?”

Jon ran his fingers through his hair.He thought of Lady Ursa.“I don’t know.There is such a lady serving the Queen.'

~~~

As the darkness neared, Ursa was taken down from her horse and forced to sit on a rock near the campfire.Her thin gloves were doing little to keep out the colder air, and now there was a coating of snow on the ground, just enough to cover the tops of her boots. _Curse these men_ , she thought, as she frantically looked around for Triston.Three nights of being in the open air with only a campfire for warmth had exacted a price. She felt her clothing was permanently matted to her body, and her hands would not unthaw.But she was all but certain that Sansa or Lord Royce had sent their men to find them by now.

Triston was being pushed to the ground on the opposite side of the fire, where there were no stones to sit on.“Sorry about the accommodations, M’lord,” said one of the captors, evoking laughter from the others.

"How much longer? Are you taking us to Deepwood Motte?”Triston demanded.“My sister is cold.She won’t bear the journey.”

“You’d best stop asking questions, boy,” said the burly man, whom they’d since learned was called Eger.“Or I may have to hurt you.”Triston fell silent and bowed his head angrily. 

“Build up the fire!” Egercommanded.“And give the girl a tent tonight.”Ursa grimaced.The tents these men carried were little more than tattered pieces of canvas that did not even close properly.But she supposed it was better than nothing.As usual, they were given some strips of dried meat to eat and nothing more, while two or three of their captors went out looking for squirrels and rabbits.Ursa’s stomach growled, yet the meat was so chewy that it was almost inedible. 

After she’d eaten, Eger lead her off behind some bushes to relieve herself.He would untie her hands and then stand on the other side so as not to see her.“Be quick about it,” he’d say.“And don’t try to run or your brother will pay.”

After Ursa had finished and adjusted her clothes, she took off her gloves and wiped her hands in the snow.Then she walked back out into the open.Eger grabbed her wrists and quickly retied them with a long strip of rawhide.He studied her face and pushed back a lock of her hair.Ursa recoiled and took a step back.

“You’re a proper lady, aren’t you,” he scoffed.“Never spent a night in the open.”

“No woman would relish this treatment,” she retorted. 

Eger snorted. “Lord Glover has a better tent for you, don’t worry.”He took her by the arm again, walking her back towards the fire.

“Then he’s nearby?” Ursa asked apprehensively.She wondered how close he was.The Queen’s men that had been sent North on the King’s road for Jon Snow had surely caught up with him by now.Wouldn’t they have seen Glover as well?

“That’s not for you to know.” 

Ursa sat down again, observing as the tents were pitched, what little there were of them.Several of the men leered at her as they worked, causing Triston to glower at them.From under her eyelashes, Ursa shot him a look of warning.In the meantime, one of the men came back with two rabbits, which were skinned and placed on spits.

“Better than nothing,” observed Eger.“Soon enough we’ll back at the main camp for venison and quail.”he came closer to the fire, observing the meat as it roasted.Then he went to his pack and pulled out a dirty bedroll which he tossed under Ursa’s tent.“You’ll be warmer with that, My Lady,” he said with a hint of mockery.“We can’t have our prisoners getting frostbit.”

Ursa said nothing in reply as she edged herself sideways into the open end of the tent and clumsily unrolled the bedding as best she could.Her head was throbbing from riding all day in the snow.Positioning herself so that she was facing the fire and Triston, she curled up and closed her eyes. _I must keep my wits about me_ , she thought.But soon she drifted off to the sounds of the men’s laughter and the crackling of the roasting meat.

It was still dark when she was jarred awake by something, but she wasn’t sure what.Everyone around the dying fire was asleep, even Triston.The sound of their rough breathing was all there was to be heard in the silent wood.The moon was high, and the snow made everything appear brighter, even in that velvety darkness.Ursa could see deep into the pines that lay beyond the fire. 

Suddenly there was a movement in the distance, a blur of white thatquickly disappeared behind a massive tree. _Could it be one of Eger's watchmen?_ she thought, before the figure emerged again.Ursa gasped as she realized it was Ghost, Jon Snow’s Direwolf.A shiver ran up her spine as the great wolf paused for a moment and seemed to gaze at her with his red eyes. Then he trotted off in the opposite direction and was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.


	37. Ghost

Ursaferventlywished that she could get up and run after Jon’s direwolf.Sansa had once told her the Stark children were connected to the animals in a way that even they found difficult to fathom.If that were so, then Jon Snow was probably not far away.Perhaps by following Ghost she might get to Jon, even with her hands tied.But fearing Eger’s threat to hurt Triston, she soon gave up on the idea as being too risky.

What she must do, she told herself, was to stay constantly alert for any sign of Jon or Sansa’s men.She must be ready to do whatever was necessary to help them secure her and Triston’s freedom from this wretched captivity.No doubt Glover’s camp, as Eger had described it, was close by.Ursa guessed that Lord Glover was on his way to Winterfell, perhaps to take Erena back by force, or perhaps to do harm to Jon Snow.

It was a dangerous situation for the Queen, she realized.It was now imperative that she and Jon should marry as quickly as possible.If something were to happen to him, their child would be born a bastard instead of the legitimate heir.The Queen had taken a terrible risk to be with him, Ursa realized.She remembered how Marwah had prattled about the blood of Winterfell when they’d encountered her in the woods. _Perhaps the have gods willed this._

As soon as dawn broke, Eger and his men rose and prepared to continue their trek back to Glover.After she was given a piece of hard bread to eat, Eger himself lifted Ursa onto her palfrey, and they set off again.

~~~

Jon had awakened to a commotion outside his tent; the sounds of horses arriving.He soon learned that Lord Royce had dispatched one hundred of the Vale’s men to come to escort them on the King’s Road after Ursa and Triston Mazin were taken near Winterfell. 

“We know where they are,” Tormund had declared in the meeting that followed. “The scouts saw them yesterday to the south.Glover may not be far away.”

“Lord Royce believes they may have been taken because they stumbled upon Glover’s men in the woods,” said a broad shouldered Knight called Ser Harlan.

Jon looked at Tormund and then the others. “We can’t leave them out here.Lady Ursa is little more than a girl, and her brother not much older.The Mazins are loyal bannermen of the Queen.”

“Aye, and that boy will be nearly useless from what I know of him,” said Tormund, who had seen the Mazins around Winterfell.“Too young and Green. But if Glover is out there, how many men does he have?”

“Maybe three or four hundred,” guessed Jon. “If that.”

“It’s too risky,” declared Ser Harlan.“Best to go back for reinforcements.”

Jon was adamant. “We should take the Mazins back before they can reach Glover.I can’t leave the Queen’s Lady out here.Or her brother.” He looked to Tormund, who nodded in agreement.

~~~

Ursa could no longer feel the tips of her fingers as they grasped at her pommel.The air had been particularly chilly that day, perhaps because they were moving further north.She also found that despite her best efforts, she was continually dozing off in the saddle, and had several times stopped herself from falling over.She could see Triston’s back ahead of her, his own horse being lead by one of Eger’s motley looking men as they trekked through the pines.She glanced off to her right to see Eger still walking alongside her palfrey.She shuddered at the sight of him.Although he had been diligent about warning the others off from her, she could not help but feel that he harbored an unseemly interest in her person.

There would be little she could do to protect herself when they reached Glover’s camp, she thought, although she supposed she and Triston would be of value to him.Ursa thought of her mother, now alone with Milly at Crossreach. _What will she do if we perish as well as our father?There will be nothing left of our house_.Ursa knew that Sansa had doubtless sent out some men to help them.Remembering her promise to herself to remain alert, Ursa glanced into the surrounding woods.There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.Looking ahead at Triston, she saw that he too seemed to be scanning the forest.

They camped as usual, with a fire and the ragged tents.This night, quail had roasted on the spits, and Ursa had been given a generous portion, along with some wild greens that Eger had dug out from under the snow on the banks of a nearby stream.Ursa noted bitterly that it was similar to the water-mint she had persuaded Triston to help her find.

“The cold air shouldn’t last much longer,” Eger told her as he untied her hands so she could eat.In spite of herself, she wolfed the meat down, and then gulped the fresh water he brought in a skin. 

“I don’t care,” Ursa hissed, which only made Eger chuckle with amusement.

“Aye, you’re a feisty one,” he said as he held out a leg of the quail.But a fine lady. Best take it, there may be nothing tomorrow.”Eger seemed to be one of the most unappealing men she had ever seen, with his bald head and filthy clothes.

Hungry as she was, Ursa took the meat from him.At least this would help her keep up her strength in case a chance to escape presented itself.

Later, she found herself again curled up inside the dingy bedroll that Eger offered.She would always face the fire for warmth, and so that she could keep an eye on Triston from under the tattered strips of canvas that served as the opening of her tent.Eger dozed nearby, his back against a tree trunk and a ragged blanket across his lap.

With her bound wrists, Ursa bunched up a piece of the bedroll and tucked it between her legs.She was certain the insides of her thighs were covered with bruises from riding, but she was afraid to look for herself as long as Eger watched from the other side of the thickets each evening. Soon she slept, lulled by her full belly and exhaustion from being all day in the saddle.

She awoke abruptly, with a disorienting sense of a disturbance around her.Dark figures had moved into the camp’s vicinity and there was the sound of swords being drawn coupled with grunts of surprise.Looking toward the spot where Triston lay asleep, she thought she saw a red haired man creeping past with his knife drawn.Thecommotion continued with Ursa thinking she saw several of Eger’s men falling motionless to the ground.Eger himself woke with a start and dived towards her, his hand on his blade.

“Triston!” she cried out, as she tried to roll from Eger’s path.There was a muffled thump and Eger moaned as he fell flat, only inches away.She was about to scream when she felt a hand over her mouth. Suddenly she was pulled back and out of the tent, as it collapsed around her.She looked up to see the face of Tormund Giantsbane.His red hair was pushed off his face and standing on end as usual.

He put a finger over his lips and she nodded up to him.He grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet as she whirled to face him.Pulling a knife from his belt, he quickly cut the bindings from around her wrists.Then he took her by the elbow and began to lead her away.

“My brother,” she said, as quietly as she was able.“He’s still back there.”

Tormund grunted softly.“Don’t worry, someone will get him.We have to leave now.”

They ran some distance with only the moonlight to guide them through the tall pines.Ursa moved as fast as she could, with the wildling catching her by the arm whenever she stumbled.Before long, her feet felt frozen from running through the snow and she felt she could go no further. As soon as she slowed down, Tormund picked her up and carried her towards some dim lights that had become visible in the distance.

“It’s me!” shouted Tormund to a figure that was advancing in the darkness. “I have the girl.”

“And we have Triston.”

Ursa realized it was the voice of Jon Snow. 

“Lady Ursa,” he called out, as Tormund put her back on her feet.“Are you alright?”Ursa stumbled towards him, and before she could stop herself, she began to sob.Jon Snow took off his heavy cloak and placed it over her shoulders.

“It’s alright now. You’re safe.”  Out from the shadows, Ghost emerged to stand beside them.He nudged one of Ursa’s hands with his nose and wagged his massive tail.

“I saw him last night.He was near our camp.”

Jon nodded.“Aye, he lead us to you.We thought it best to lead the raid ourselves.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Lord Commander, or you …..”She glanced at Tormund. "I suppose you're to be a Lord."

“He’s not the Lord Commander any more,” said Tormund.“He’s something else now.”

Jon turned back to Tormund with a shrug.“And the others?”

“They shouldn’t be far behind.”

As Jon lead her away, Ursa realized there were dozens of men in the grove.Some carried the Direwolf shields of Sansa’s army, while others carried those with falcon and crescent sigils from the Knights of the Vale.Standing by the fire and near a large white tent was Triston, whom she ran to embrace.

“Ursa, thank the gods!” he cried out.“Did that dreadful man harm you?”

“No.But he may have soon enough.”

“You must both get into the tent and warm up,” said Jon.“We'll have to ride again before long.For Winterfell.”


	38. A Better World

They'd begun riding before dawn.Sansa’s men had recovered Ursa and Triston’s palfreys from Eger’s wretched camp, to Ursa’s great relief.Her own mare was a gift from her father, and she cherished that last connection to him.

Triston had chosen to ride near the front with Royce’s men; Ursa was further back with Jon, Tormund, and those who’d accompanied them from Castle Black.Behind them were soldiers who had been dispatched from Sansa’s forces.Ursa barely had time to eat a quick meal of brown bread and figs, and to splash some water on her face before they’d mounted up again, just as Jon had warned.

With Ghost walking alongside, Jon rode slightly forward of her on his black courser, his hair bound back from his face with a leather tie.He wore his own cloak again, and Ursa had been given a fur that Jon’s men were carrying.She stole glances at him from time to time, studying his fine profile and dark eyes.Half the maids and kitchen girls at Winterfell were in love with him, according to Eira, and it was not difficult to see why.He was quiet and circumspect, as always. Ursa could not remember an occasion when she had known him to be garrulous except perhaps at the feast which was held after the Night King’s defeat.

Finally, he slowed his horse so he was riding alongside her.

“How did you find the Queen when you last saw her?” he asked politely.

“She was well, Lord ….My Lord.I’m afraid I don’t know how to address you, now,” Ursa told him. 

“You can call me Jon." 

“Very well, but it doesn’t seem quite proper.The Queen is well, although concerned for your own safety."

Jon nodded and drew a deep breath. They had fallen out of earshot of those riding near them, but he lowered his voice.“I received the raven under House Mazin’s seal.I must thank you for your help.”

“I would do whatever she asks of me, truly,” said Ursa.“As would my brother. And now we owe you our lives.”

“And you know why I am returning?”

“I know there is to be a marriage, yes.”

“It was not planned to be this soon.”Jon hesitated.“I’m concerned whether Sansa is alright.”

Their eyes locked for a moment and Ursa found herself blushing.Partly because of the subject at hand, and partly because of the intensity of his gaze.

“She is anxious for your return, she is anxious that the two of you be married.”Ursa softened her own voice.“She was ill for some weeks, but now she is improved under Maester Wolkan’s care. And her maid has been diligent in seeing to her health."

“Is she sleeping enough?She’s sometimes troubled by her dreams.”

“I believe she is. Maester Wolkan gives her draughts from time to time. She is well and taking care.Soon enough you’ll see her.”Ursa smiled reassuringly.“Our house will be loyal to the Queen,” she added.“The North owes you both our very existence.”

Jon smiled thinly, and behind it she detected a hint of unease.“Ursa, I will try to earn back the Northerners’ trust.”

“I’m not certain you’re distrusted, in truth,” said Ursa.“It was a difficult time.The Queen having chosen you is sufficient for me, given what I know of her past suffering.”Ursa glanced over to him, fearful that she had been overly forward in her remarks. “The Starks belong at Winterfell, it seems the gods have willed it.”

“Do you remember the Wood’s Witch that day?”

“Yes,and I know of her from Crossreach and Hornwood Hall, both. The Queen was startled by her words, as was I. I had never known her to prophesies in that manner.Only to tell fortunes and the like.”Ursa tilted her head and fell silent, unsure of his meaning.After a moment, she said, “Do you think the gods spoke through her?”

Jon shrugged. “Did Sansa give her opinion?”

“She’s only said it’s uncertain - the reasons behind what occurs.”

“Aye.”

“The answers are indistinct.Yet we must live.”

“There’s the rub,” he said.

“But surely the power of the Weirwoods is real.”

They had come to a more open area, rocky and flat.There had been less snow here andnow there was bare ground to be seen.The sun was climbing higher and warming their faces.“Aye, there is something,” said Jon. “But we read our own desires into it.”

“But isn’t your wolf proof enough?” asked Ursa.

Jon smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling.“He may have to be.”He looked over to Ghost who turned and cocked his good ear forward for a moment.

“Forgive me, My L….Jon.Forgive me, but why do you and Queen Sansa question the gods?”

Jon’s eyes were somber.“Because of what life has brought, I suppose. Tragedy changes us.”

Ursa shaded her eyes as she looked eastward.She felt an intuitive grasp of his words, but could not think of how to respond.Finally she spoke.“Yes, after my Lord Father died at Winterfell, my life changed.I have not been the same, and nothing can right it completely.But he would have wanted me to go on.We must all find our ways again, it seems.”She turned back to Jon.“Surely our parents would want us all to go on.There is always the promise of a better world.”

“We would all like to think so,” he replied.

Jon hesitated for a moment,as though her words had struck a chord.They had ridden back into the woods, and were surrounded by thickets and tall trees.The King’s Road was indistinct here, with sections of it overgrown by low vegetation.

 _He will soon be a father himself, if the gods are kind_ , Ursa thought.But heractual words were more measured. “I think you and the Queen have much to look forward to.”

Jon looked at her thoughtfully, and then off to his side, as though reacting to something. She noticed that Ghost had raised his head and was sniffing the air.A flock of crows rose from the trees above them, their black wings beating loudly.

The sound of shouts arising from the front of the column put an end to their conversation.Ursa craned her neck to see ahead, but she could make out nothing but a disturbance in movement among the horses.Jon pulled his courser abruptly off to the side, and then suddenly fell back into line.

All at once they were swamped from all sides by men on horseback, most of them wearing pointed helms.Ursa’s palfrey reared, and Tormund rushed forward to grab her bridle.He pulled to her the right, as though hoping to remove her from the melee.She saw Jon glance their way before he galloped his horse forward.“Get her out of this!” he cried to Tormund. Then he was lost from her line of sight, along with Ghost.

Tormund succeeded in guiding her palfrey into a thicket, where they quickly dismounted. “Go over there, behind the stones!” he shouted.“Lie low and stay there!”He had pointed to a rough outcropping of rocks, intermingled with some scraggly trees.Her breath ragged, Ursa swiftly pulled their horses to where he had directed, behind the boulders. She dove behind one and attempted to peer through a gap.Tormund had pulled out his massive knife and then jumped back into the fray.

From her vantage Ursa could see horses and bodies colliding and hear the metallic crush of swords and armor. The air was rife with screams and groans.Many of the men had now dismounted and were fighting hand to hand, with some falling.She could not see to the front of the column where Triston had been, though she frantically tried to discern what was occurring there.So intent was she on catching sight of him, that she didn’t hear the snap of twigs behind her until it was too late.An armored soldier carrying the shield of House glover seized her roughly by the arm and pulled her to her feet.She was dragged back from her hiding spot and marched further away from the battle, all the while demanding to be released.

In a grove some distance back from the melee, a row of men on horseback were arranged in a crescent formation and apparently trying to view the battle.When they saw her being brought to them, the man in the center dismounted and stepped forward a few yards.Ursa recognized him as Lord Glover.

~~~

It was some hours later that Ursa heard excited shouts outside of the tent to which she’d been taken.It waslarge, and warm because of its braziers.Her hands were tied again, and she’d been placed sitting on a pile of furs, with a large one over her lap.Lord Glover had demanded to know her identity and then sniggered when he heard the name of House Mazin.

“What do you want of us?”she’d demanded. “How dare you set your men on me?”

But Lord Glover had only motioned with a jerk of his head for her to be brought inside.There was nothing there, save for a table with a lantern and the furs and braziers.She had sat there, frozen with fear for Triston, Jon, and the others. Was it possible they had all been taken prisoner or worse?With the heat of the coals on her face, she had finally dozed off from exhaustion, only to be roused again by the shouting.It seemed as though it was almost evening now.

She heard the gruff voice of Lord Glover.“Bring the Mazin girl out!”She was lead back into the grove by a soldier, who kept a tight grip on her forearm.After a few steps, he shoved her forward and she stumbled and almost fell before regaining her footing.The acrid smell of woodsmoke, mingled with the raw scent of blood assaulted her nostrils and stung her eyes.

When her sight had adjusted she could see there were a number of figures standing about.Near her was Lord Glover, and opposite him but some yards away she was shocked to see Jon, flanked by two Northern soldiers.Beside him on horseback was a rider carrying the standard of House Stark.Jon’s face was blackened with the grime of battle, but he looked to be unharmed and was still carrying Longclaw.His eyes met hers for a moment and he appeared to offer a look of reassurance.

“Here she is,” declared Glover.“Unharmed as I told you.”

Glover looked over to her.“Your disgraced King has agreed to take your place as my prisoner.I have him and some thirty of his men.You’re to ride back to Winterfell and tell your Queen to send me my daughter.If I don't see Erena within eight days, Jon Snow and Lord Triston will be taken to Deepwood Motte and remain there as prisoners. The rest will be killed."

“Erena has been ill,” said Ursa.“She may not be fit for the journey.”

“Then you’ll bring her in a wheelhouse.But I warn you, if I find she’s been harmed…”Glover glanced at Jon menacingly.

Jon stepped forward.“Let Lord Mazin accompany his sister.”

Ursa breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of Triston. _He lives_ , she thought.

“No, he will remain here to sweeten the pot.”

“Might I see him?”Ursa begged.

Glover shook his head.“You will not.You’ll go on your way with a few of your soldiers to protect you.”

“You promised to let the Wildlings go as well,”said Jon.

“Aye, they’ll ride too. They are worthless to me.”

Glover spoke to the Stark Standard Bearer, and Jon's guards.“You’re to keep to the King’s Road.The Lady will be given her horse and a supply of food.It’s three day’s ride to Winterfell. If my message doesn’t get to the Queen, or if she fails to return my daughter, Jon Snow and Lord Triston will be taken to Deepwood Motte.”

At Glover’s command, two of his soldiers stepped forward.Jon handed over his weapons and was then lead past Ursa to be taken into the tent.Ursa turned to look at him; their eyes met for a moment and he nodded.“Do as he says, Ursa."

Later, Ursa recalled it all in a blur.As she rode out of the camp with the men Glover had allowed, they passed a area that was surrounded bya crude fence andmany guards, several with spears. A number of soldiers of the North or the Vale were sitting or lying on the ground, some with bloody wounds.She did not see Triston among them, though she knew from Jon’s words that he must be alive. Neither was Tormund Giantsbane to be seen, which prompted her to wonder if he had fallen in battle.


	39. Dark Turns

Maester Wolkan had informed Sansa that he found her to be in good health, and both she and Eira were pleased.The two were in Sansa’s bedchamber just after he’d departed, leaving behindsome fresh salves and a draught to induce sleep. 

There had been several days of rain and clouds, but on this morning the sun had come out and now shone through the shutters.Sansa was getting dressed as Eira picked up a vial and studied it.“This is the sleeping draught.Remember, you must be careful as he said.He knows your state of mind.”

Sansa laced the side of her dress and nodded absently as she smoothed her hands over her abdomen.She hastily braided her hair and tied it behind her back. “I will take care, but Maester Wolkan knows very well why I have trouble sleeping.”Eira had almost become like a younger sister to Sansa, but sometimes the maid’s vigilance became overbearing. 

“You’re sure to have news of Jon Snow any day, and Lady Ursa,” Eira said.

“I hope you’re right.”Sansa sat down to lace her boots, and Eira knelt to help her before hurrying out to make tea and to set out something for breakfast.These days, Sansa found she had less appetite although she knew she must eat for the sake of her child.

It had been a week’s time since Ursa and Triston had disappeared.Eira was correct; there should soon be word of their whereabouts from Ser Harlan or one of the others.By her own calculation, Jon was actually overdue by only a day or two, and any number of things may have delayed him.But the passing time also meant she was that much closer to childbirth, a fact that made it difficult for her to stop worrying.Concealing that fact from Lord Royce and the others would become increasingly implausible.

 _And Ursa, poor Ursa._ Sansa had tried to control the dark turns her mind took when she consideredUrsa’s predicament.Sending the raven to Lady Ursaline informing her of what had happened to her two oldest children was of the most difficult things Sansa had done as Queen. _It happened when they were in my charge_.It weighed heavily on her thoughts, and added greatly to her distress.

But it wasn’t long after breaking her fast that Sansa was informed ofStark riders approaching from the north on the King’s Road.She and Lord Royce, with Maester Wolkanassembled hastily in the courtyard, a small crowd growing behind them.The gates were opened and the small phalanx of riders entered, bedraggled in appearance.

Ursa was riding near the front, after the standard bearer and three guards, her brown dress and cloak dirty and torn in spots.The girl’s hair was wildly out of place around her face, the braiding partly undone.Her face was streaked with dirt.She half staggered off her horse and ran to Sansa, who had been looking on with relief.The two embraced, with Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan watching.

“What news have you of Jon Snow and your brother?”Lord Royce demanded.“And Ser Harlan?”

Ursa withdrew from Sansa’s arms and wiped her eyes with a muddied sleeve.“It’s too terrible for words.”Maester Wolkan stepped forward and took Ursa by the elbow.

“There, there Lady Ursa.Catch your breath and tell us what happened.”

Sansa felt a lump forming in her throat and placed one hand over her breast.“Please Ursa, tell us!”Have Jon and Triston been harmed?”

“They live,” blurted Ursa.“But Lord Glover has them.”

Relieved for the moment, Sansa drew a deep breath.“Take them all inside and see to them at once!”She called out, as crews of servants and stable boys rushed forward.Ursa was lead into the great hall and seated by the fire.With her voice quavering at times, she recounted what had happened, and relayed that Jon had taken her place as Lord Glover’s hostage. 

“It’s Erena.He demands you bring him Erena!”she cried out.None of this would have happened if not for me!”

“That’s not really true, Lady Ursa,” said Lord Royce. “Glover was no doubt making his way to Winterfell, and his scouts came upon you.It was dumb luck for him.”

Sansa bent down and smoothed Ursa’s tear streaked face.“You must go upstairs and be seen to.”She nodded to Eira.“Take her to my own chambers for now.She must rest.”

The Great Hall was chaotic, with the arriving soldiers being seated at the long tables and tended by servants.The loud ring of excited voices permeated the air, adding to the confusion.Sansa turned to Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan in disbelief.

“We must bring him the girl,” she said to them.“I won’t risk Jon.”

The Stark’s standard bearer, Beron, had come forward, his face haggard with fatigue. 

“What happened out there?” Lord Royce demanded.“How is it that Jon Snow was taken?”

“He wasn’t taken, My Lord.He fought for a time before discovering that Glover had Lady Ursa.He sent an envoy into Glover’s camp and then we went in and negotiated.Glover has at least thirty more of our men, I’m afraid.Some others died and a few are missing.Tormund Giantsbane is among them.”

“Giantsbane is missing?”

“Aye, from what I could see.Maybe he’s lurking there waiting for a chance to attack with the others.And I believe Ser Harlan is among the wounded.”

“And Lord Mazin?”

“He was taken early on I’m afraid.He’s been cut in the leg.”

“What if Tormund goes in by himself?” Sansa mused.“He’d be far outnumbered. He could get Jon killed.”

“I don’t believe he would be that foolish,” said Lord Royce. He turned and looked Sansa in the eye.“I’ll take the girl and go up there.We’ll exchange her for Jon and get him out. Once he’s safe, we’ll crush Glover.This cannot be allowed to go unanswered.”

Sansa turned away and looked into the fire.“Has Glover gone mad, I wonder?Surely he knows what this means.”

“Rebellions have arisen from from similar circumstances and then torn the world asunder.It’s best to crush him while you can.What if he gets Yara Greyjoy on his side?Remember her words in King’s Landing?”

Sansa considered what Lord Royce had said.

“Jon is a hero to many here.This provocation will not be taken lightly by Northmen,” he added.Or by the Knights of the Vale.”

“I’m riding with you,” said Sansa suddenly.“I must speak to Glover myself or he won’t believe you’re not laying a trap.”

~~~

“My Queen, your plan is far too risky,” Maester Wolkan told Sansa as they navigated the warren of stone corridors that lead to her chambers.“You must remain safe here at Winterfell, especially given your condition.I know Jon Snow.He would never support you in this.”

“I don’t trust Glover to keep his word.I must see him with my own eyes.”They arrived at the door to her solar, and she pushed itopen impatiently.“Where is Ursa?” she called out to Eira, who was preparing a cup of tea near the brazier.

“She’s in the bath, Your Grace.I’m afraid she’s exhausted, and still nearly hysterical.Maester Wolkan, her legs are covered in bruises. I’ve never seen such a sight.”

“I’ll tend to her as soon as she is ready,” said Wolkan. 

“Please, sit for a moment,”Sansa indicated a chair.“I’ll go and see to her.”

When Sansa entered, Ursa had just come out of the bath and was sitting on the bed wrapped in a green linen robe.Her damp hair hung in long ringlets around her face, and in spite of the warmth of the room, she was shivering.At the sight of Sansa, she covered her face with her hands.

“I’m so sorry, your Grace,” she sobbed.“He is there because of me.”

Sansa sat down beside her and took one of her hands.“No, Ursa.It’s just like Jon to surrender himself like that.He never puts himself first.”She bowed her head and brushed away a tear of her own. “We must be strong.”

Ursa looked up and nodded.“He saved me twice.Just before Glover’s men attacked, he asked about you; if you are well.I think he understands….what has happened.”

“Ursa, I must tell you something.I’m going North with Lord Royce.I must see to this myself.”

Ursa gasped.“You can’t!You must not.”

“I would never forgive myself anything happened to Jon; if anything went wrong.He sacrificed so much for me, for our family.I have to pay him back.”

“But your child.Surely he would never want you to do this.For the sake of the North and the gods, you must not.”

“I want our baby to know its father.”

Eira Came into the room carrying a cup of steaming tea. “You must drink this and get warm," she told Ursa.Maester Wolkan will be in in just a moment.” Eira placed the cup down on the night table.

Sansa looked at Eira quizzically. “Are there any dresses still in Arya’s chamber?”

Eira glanced over sharply.“I’m told she hated dresses.Aye, there’s a couple hanging there as good as new.But why?”

“Bring them to me as soon as you can.I believe they would fit Erena. She can't go back to her father in rags."


	40. Rose of Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against advice, Sansa is on her way to confront Lord Glover and to exchange Erena for Jon.

Sansa’s wheelhouse was packed hastily. In several reed baskets, Eira had stacked piles of fresh linens.Nestled among these was a wooden box holding Maester Wolkan’s concoctions, carefully jarred and bottled.There were earthen jugs of fresh water, tightly sealed, and a large copper basin.The queen’s clothing, selected for travel, had been placed in a carved cedar chest which had been a gift from Lord Hornwood upon her coronation.Knowing the likelihood that Sansa’s appetite would be off, Eira also packed six crates of fruit that had been dried or preserved in jars, as well as a wheel of hard cheese infused with saffron and lavender and carefully wrapped in waxed cloth.

The wheelhouse had only been used once, when Sansa had journeyed to Hornwood Hall to pay Lady Hornwood a visit.It had come from White Harbor, and was built at Lord Manderly’s insistence at the same time he’d overseen the construction of thirty ships for her Navy.Made of blond colored wood, it had the Stark Sigil painted on its sides.It was drawn by four draft horses, although Sansa had opted to ride her own white courser for much of the day.This had been discouraged by both Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn, who rode near her and well behind the front of their column of soldiers.They were four hundred fifty in all, including the Queen’s Guard, and not counting the scouts that had ridden out ahead of them.

Erena rode in her own smaller carriage behind that of the Queen.At Sansa’s direction she wasgiven some new clothing, including the two dresses discarded by Arya.Erena had been bathed by servants, and her long unruly hair was brushed and then braided at her temples in order to contain her wild curls.Maester Wolkan had determined that the girl’s health had improved enough to undertake the journey, although in truth she would have to travel regardless.

Thankfully the day had dawned clear again, and they’d set out as early as possible, still under strong objections from Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan.The Maester himself was riding near Erena’s wheelhouse, his cache of potions and remedies packed in his worn leather saddlebags.

At lunch time they stopped for awhile to stretch their legs and eat a quick meal.A small wooden table with chairs were set out near a stream. Eira laid out bread, cheese and fruit along with a copper ewer of cold water.Sansa had called Erena to eat a meal with her.

Erena was lead out from her carriage. She was in a dove gray gown that had belonged to Arya.Sansa recalled with some amusement that she’d made this very dress herself as a kind of peace offering when Arya had suddenly appeared at Winterfell and Jon was still away.It was of plain raw silk with flowing sleeves, simple but elegantly stitched.Of course Arya had never worn it, but the shade looked well on Erena, who was also wrapped in a thick gray shawl.The girl was still as thin as a stick, but some of her color had returned.

“My Queen,” Erena intoned, as she stood before Sansa and curtsied, her head bowed.With her hair arranged and her face scrubbed, Erena was quite presentable.

“How are you feeling?” Sansa inquired.“Please sit.”

Erena glanced at the guards surrounding the table at some distance.She took the chair opposite Sansa, who then passed her a plate.“I feel a bit stronger,” she said.“I thank you for returning me to my father.And for the dresses.”

“The clothes you traveled in were ruined. Has Maester Wolkan explained what has happened?”

“Yes, Your Grace.He’s told me I’m to be swapped for Jon Snow.”

“When Lord Royce asked for you and your brother to be sent to Winterfell, it was because of your father’s actions, or should I say his lack of action.We never imagined he would take things this far.I think you understand that.”

“It was my mother who sent me to you.”

“Be that as it may…”

“She was afraid of what he might do.”

Sansa offered Erena a plate of fruit.“You must eat something.” 

Erena took two large figs from the platter and sliced them using a small knife with a handle made of horn.In the meantime Sansa passed her a piece of soft cheese wrapped in vine leaves, and some bread.

“It was perfectly appropriate for Lord Royce to request that you and your brother be brought to Winterfell.Your father refused us when we called our banners to fight against the Night King.Then he refused to help rebuild the North.You would have been treated kindly here.”

“I don’t doubt you think that, Your Grace.But I’ll be happy to go home all the same.”Erena spread half a fig with the cheese and popped it into her mouth.“My father didn't want to get his men killed for Jon Snow.He said he did the same as Robb when he was crowned King in The North.”

“I am going to speak to your father myself when we arrive at his camp.You must stay near me and follow my instructions when the time comes.For your own safety.”

“I shall.”Erena shrank back in her a chair a bit, as though frightened of what might occur.

“This isn’t your fault.I should have liked to have gotten to know you better.”

“My father is a proud man, Your grace.I’m afraid my Lady Mother has little influence on him.She told him it was best to accept that you have chosen Jon Snow.And that a Wildling is to be given The Last Hearth.”

“Circumstances change, and sometimes we must change with them.”

“My father supported you as Queen, I believe, until he learned about Jon Snow.Bannermen must be willing to bleed for their liege.After King Robb, perhaps he was not so inclined.” Erena finished her figs and cheese, and put down her knife.“But I would speak well of you to my father.”

“Your father’s actions are very serious.” Sansa rose from her chair, with Erena following suit.“You must go back now.If we don’t speak again, remember what I’ve said.”

Erena curtsied, and one of the guards stepped forward to accompany her to the wheelhouse.At that moment, Eira came to clear the table.She looked at Erena curiously as the two passed one another. 

“She’s eaten something, Your Grace?That’s good.”Eira piled the dishes onto the tray of bread and fruit.“I believe it’s time to ride again.”

“I’m ready.”

“You’ve finished?Perhaps you should rest in the wheelhouse for a time?”

“No, I’d rather ride,” said Sansa.

“Then I’ll get my garron and ride beside you. I’d like a change of scenery.”

The King’s Road stretched in front of them, grayish in color, when they mounted up again.As they rode further North, they’d seen more and more snow dappling the ground, just as Ursa had warned.The day was mild, but overcast, and the melting snow was creating puddles here and there that splashed and muddied the horses’ legs.

“After tonight only two more days of riding,” said Lord Royce to Sansa.Her silver haired companion was riding a large black courser, and next to him was Lord Cerwyn.“We’d best plan out carefully how we’ll proceed once we reach Glover’s camp.You must be well protected, Your Grace.Glover has proven himself a snake.”

“Yes, we must meet tonight when we camp,” said Lord Cerwyn.And be prepared for any eventuality.”

“As long as we keep Erena back and well under guard, he won’t dare do anything.And I must see Jon before she’s brought forward to him.”

“I don’t like it at all,” said Lord Royce.“I wish you’d let me handle this.”

Sansa looked off into the trees.“I can’t risk Jon.I know Glover.He once trusted me.He respected my father.I must hear his words myself.”

Royce nodded, his face uncertain. “Your motives are admirable, My Queen.But I wish you would let me go instead.” 

“You’ll be near me.”

They rode in silence for a time.Eira’s garron struggled a bit to keep up with the larger horses.Eventually she and Sansa fell back from Lord Cerwyn and Lord Royce, and spoke quietly between themselves.

“I think Lord Glover will be pleased when he sees Erena,” said Eira.You’ve dressed her nicely and treated her well.”

“I hope you’re right; that’s why I’ve done it. Not that we wouldn’t take care of her.It isn’t her fault that she’s in this predicament.”

“Aye, but I think she wants to go back,” said Eira.

“Yes, she’s said as much.Of course all of us learn to value our families that much more once we fear that we’ve lost them.”

“Will they let Glover go?After?”

“I feel we must for now.We must keep our word.”

Eira nodded.

From the front of the column, a strange kind of chanting came wafting down towards them.The Northern soldiers were singing to pass the time.Most of the songs were familiar to Sansa, but then came an odd one that she’d never heard before.The tune was slow and haunting. 

She turned in her saddle and looked down to Eira.“What is that song?”

Eira looked at her apprehensively.“It’s called _The Blue Rose of Winter._ I believe it’s newer.”

“You know it?”

“I’ve heard it, aye,”said Eira reluctantly.“Some passing singer made it, and now it’s caught on.”

As Sansa listened, the words became louder and clearer:

> _The bluest rose of winter grows_
> 
> _Amid the wood of thorns._
> 
> _The fairest maid of winter there,_
> 
> _The bluest rose adorns._
> 
> _And by the God’s Eye,_
> 
> _All did see-_
> 
> _A crown of love he gave to she -_
> 
> _Blue rose of the thorns_
> 
> _Rose of the thorns,_
> 
> _The bluest rose of all._
> 
> _The fiercest wolf of winter wore_
> 
> _A garland blue and rare,_
> 
> _A wreath that’s wove of blood and rose,_
> 
> _She wore it in her hair._
> 
> _The stag did leap, the smiles died,_
> 
> _The dragon sleeps, the raven flies-_
> 
> _Blue rose of the thorns_
> 
> _Rose of the thorns,_
> 
> _The bluest rose of all._

_“_ It’s about my Aunt Lyanna,”Sansa observed with some amazement in her voice.“Jon’s mother.”

“Singers love sad songs, Your Grace,”Eira said with a sigh. 

_But it’s not all sad_ , thought Sansa, remembering the final verse. _The dragon sleeps, the raven flies._ She closed her eyes momentarily, feeling the burden of her family’s history falling upon her.And soon enough, there would be another Stark fated to carry it as well.As she squinted into the distance, she felt a prickling sense of unease, but it was soon followed by a new resolve. _I’ve won before, and I will again.For Jon, and the Starks_ , _and The North._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song included here, "Blue Rose of Winter" - I've imagined it being sung to the tune of a Christmas carol I've heard this season. It's called "The Huron Carol," if anyone cares to look it up. Thanks for reading!


	41. A Scatter of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a visitor to Jon's Tent.

Jon woke suddenly, and his eyes struggled to adjust in the dim light of the tent.It must be past sundown now, although he had no idea how long he’d been dozing.He was seated on the same pile of furs and woven rugs where Ursa had been kept, with his wrists bound in front of him, and his ankles as well.He could see the dim shadows of two guards who were posted directly outside the tent’s opening.Occasionally they made small talk that he was not really able to hear.

It had been four days since he’d exchanged himself for Ursa, something he did not regret in spite of it meaning he was still apart from Sansa.That, and knowing the worry that she must now be feeling, ate at him deeply.But Ursa was an innocent in all of this, and would likely have been unable to fend for herself if subjected to Glover’s machinations.He remembered that Ursa and her brother had always behaved admirably at Winterfell, without a touch of guile. _The Starks must protect their own, or the name will mean nothing to anyone; our name is all we have in the end._ The sentiment was Ned’s, even if the words were not exact. Jon tried to live by that, even whenthe choices were not so simple.

He imagined that something had been set into motion by now. Glover had visited him briefly to rant about his daughter and berate Jon again for his treachery in bending the knee to Daenerys Targaryen.It seemed to Jon that the grizzled Lord had consumed much more than his fill of ale, because his characteristic Northern belligerence was even more pronounced than usual. __

Other than that, he’d been left to stare at the white walls of the tent and the black braziers as they smoldered with glowing coals.He was fed three times a day and taken out to a nearby ditch so he could relieve himself every so often. Every morning, he had a basin of water to wash his hands and his face.But he was well-guarded each time his hands and ankles were untied; there appeared to be no good opportunity for escape.

Jon was unsure what had awakened him; perhaps it had been the whinny of a horse, or the clanging of a ladle in an iron cooking pot.His mind turned back to Sansa and those around her at Winterfell.He prayed she wasn’t planning anything rash.An even exchange: himself for Erena; that was the most logical course of action, and he imagined it would be coming soon.Surely Glover was not mad enough to bring down the fury of the Northern armies upon himself, all for the sake of nursing his long-held grievances.

Jon leaned his head against the furs stacked behind him, and tried to relax his aching shoulders.Soon one or two of Glover’s men would bring a meal and perhaps a hot drink, and then it would be back to another uncomfortable night. In spite of this, he knew his concerns were of little consequence compared to what Sansa must be going through.He assumed she was growing bigger with child by now, although he didn’t know the exact timing of when a woman’s pregnancy became apparent.The strain of it all must be weighing upon her; that and the inevitable furor that the taking of the Mazins and now himself must be causing around her. _I hope we’re doing the right thing_.He couldn’t help but think it, even though he knew it would have irritated Sansa. _It’s far too late for that_ , he could hear her voice reproaching him. 

And it was too late. Too late for regrets or remonstrances.The decision was made when he’d gone to her bed, and though he thought it to be the right one, Sansa was now in danger because of it.Not only because they were yet unmarried, but because of her pregnancy itself.Ever since Jon had learned of Sansa’s condition, he’d suffered dreams about what had happened to his own mother; how she had died giving birth to him.If battle was the test of men’s bravery, childbed was the test of a woman’s.He longed to be with her again, to protect her and their babe from harm.So much depended on the child’s birth and that it be legitimized by their marriage - the continuance of House Stark, the prosperity of the North, and Sansa’s happiness.

Maybe the last was really the most important thing to him now, he mused.After all, at one time he’d been ready to give up on ever seeing Winterfell again.He was ready then to take Sansa south with him, away from the North, away from the snow and the Whitewalkers, and the Boltons.A life of anonymity, with him as her brother, of course.That was before either of them had known the truth and when he had assumed all his dreams and ideals had been shattered.He had fancied himself as a free man with a beautiful sister to look after, and their true selves, their wolf-selves, would be their own secret.But that life was not to be.

Each of his two nights with her haunted him.Her pale body, her long red hair, the curve of her spine.Her scent, like roses, and her mouth like honey.Her hesitation, because she’d been hurt. Each night since he had left her, whether he was looking up at the random scatter of stars in the Northern sky, or staring at some ceiling, he thought of her body and the sweetness he had found in it.It was all so complex, because Sansa too belonged to his childhood and because they shared Ned, Catelyn, Robb, and the others in common as their own.But it was good as well, because they understood each other.There was so much they would never have to explain.

 _She would blush and laugh_ , he thought, _If she could know what I was thinking about her._

His thoughts were interrupted by a guard bringing his dinner _._ As usual, it was a pottage of meat and vegetables, with a piece of brown bread, and his hands were untied to eat.Two guards watched him, and then he was given a cup of steaming tea _._

“Lord Glover wants to keep you healthy, I suppose,” one of the guards japed.“My mother always swore by mint tea.”

“You’re a special prisoner,” jeered the other, “Once a King.”But Jon just drank in silence, not wanting to provoke them.He asked to be taken outside so he might relieve himself, and was walked several yards out to the ditch that was situated near a mass of low shrubs.As he pissed into the dirt, he overheard his two captors speaking in hushed tones, but they were not making much effort to hide their words.

“Lord Gawen has arrived,” said one.

“Yes, and there’s been a messenger from the Queen,” said the other.“He’s been sent back on his way already.Lady Erena will be brought here tomorrow.”

 _So it would be tomorrow,_ thought Jon,after he’d been tied again.It would be Royce or Cerwyn come to claim him, and then three day’s ride, at least.The others would be released as well, and some were wounded, from what he knew.His mind roiled at Glover for his treachery and the injuries he’d caused.

Suddenly, the flap of the tent lifted and a man entered, handsome and tallish, with thick black hair.His gorget was engraved with the sigil of House Glover, a raised fist; and his longsword was sheathed in leather.

“Ahh, the man who sparked the latest rebellion.” 

“Who are you?” asked Jon, as he tried to straighten his body.

“Gawen Glover.Come to see our former King for myself.”Gawen pulled up a wooden stool and seated himself near one of the braziers.“Sorry I can’t offer you a chair.”

“I’ve come to speak to you about tomorrow, he added.“According to your Queen’s envoy, my sister’s to be brought here and you’re to be given over.”

Jon nodded.“I thought as much. Your father’s men are careless with their talk.” Jon motioned with his chin towards the entry.

“Ahh yes, not surprising,” Gawen said with derision in his voice.“They’ve never been this far from Deepwood Motte.”

“Aye.Given that Lord Glover refused to fight with us.”

“A decision that some here didn’t agree with,” said Gawen.“But my father did like your Queen once, at least until he learned of her latest plans.”He stroked his beard with his hand.

Jon snorted. “And is that why you’re here?To tell me there’s a revolt in the offing?”

“My father is an old man now.And perhaps shortsighted with respect to the future. Your brother is dead and the Boltons are gone, as is Daenerys Targaryen.”Gawen hesitated, and then pulled out a wineskin and took a swig. 

“I have two daughters,” he added.“Elsinore and Alys. Beautiful girls. My sister that my mother sent to Winterfell is but a girl herself.”

“What are you saying?”

Gawen reached over as if to put his wineskin to Jon’s lips, but he shook his head in refusal.

“I’m saying that I’d be willing to treat with the Queen, should it come to that.You can tell her.I don’t give a fuck about what you did with the Dragon Queen or what you’re doing with the new Queen.Or what she wants to do with the Wildlings.I want to go back to Deepwood Motte and be left in peace.I’m a practical man.Will you remember that tomorrow, should something go wrong?”

Jon searched Gawen’s face, trying to get the measure of him.He saw a man who was on the youngish side, probably younger than himself;a man whose face bore the mark of sincerity, for all his bluster.“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”, he asked.

“I suppose you can’t.You only have my word, sworn on the names of my daughters.I have no quarrel with you or the Queen.”

There was a rumble of voices outside, and Gawen stood up.He nodded to Jon and strode out of the tent with one last look over his shoulder.


	42. Parley

“Remember, My Queen;We stay behind the guards and standard bearers until Glover and his men stop,” Lord Royce told her warily.“I’ll nod to you when it’s safe for us to go forward.He was mounted on his black horse, and was today wearing his helm, its visor drawn up.Next to him was Lord Cerwyn, on his dappled gray courser and wearing a breastplate bearing the double-axe sigil of his house.On all sides they were surrounded by the Queensguard.The two Stark standard bearers were preparing to take their places, and there was also a third banner-bearer for the Knights of the Vale, situated more to the rear.

They were in a wood, near the edge of a clearing where they were to meet Glover.Massive pine and spruce trees rose off the forest floor along with an occasional gnarled oak.The air was fresh with the sharp scent of pine needles, and the sun was out this morning, even though it was chilly.An envoy had been sent out the day before under a white peace banner, and this place, not very far from Glover’s camp, had been agreed upon as the spot for their parley.

Sansa, on her white horse, looked around nervously.That morning, even before the sun had risen, Eira had helped her to dress.Water had been heated in an iron kettle on the campfire andbrought to the basin in the wheelhouse for her to wash. Then she had chosen a dress of heavy gray brocade forboth its warmth and its forgiving waistline.It had a high collar embroidered with tiny crimson weirwood leaves.The bodice was paneled with strips of linen decorated with minute silver beads and feathers, and she wore an additional padded collar decorated with two silver direwolf’s heads with laces that crossed over and tied.Over it all was her heavy blue velvet cloak topped with a fur.Her hair had been braided over one shoulder, the simple style she preferred while traveling. Lastly, her crown was retrieved from the cedar chest and carefully placed on her head by Eira.

The night had been a mostly sleepless one.She had tossed and turned the thick pallet that served as her bed in the wheelhouse.It had linen sheets and warm furs, but anxiety over Jon was gripping her. What if Glover went back on his word and tried to harm him; what if it was all a trap?Sansa feared for Jon and their child both, but she dare not entrust this to Royce or Cerwyn.They were good and loyal, but so often men were rash and foolhardy. Perhaps they would slight Glover in some way with their pride or their bluster, and the result would be disaster.No, Sansa knew this task was best undertaken by herself. Her presence would also show the Northmen and Glover’s forces that her commitment was such that she’d come for Jon herself rather than remain safely ensconced at Winterfell.

Nearly four moons had passed since they had last looked into each other’s eyes, spoken or touched, and today, the gods willing, that hurt would end. Sansa imagined what it would be like to be freed of it at last and once again be near to Jon.They could talk into the night before a blazing fire, or walk in the godswood and revel in her pregnancy.Over time, she had begun to see their uniting as both a fulfillment and a healing.Their mingled blood would unite the North; it would prosper again and continue in their children. _Perhaps the gods live through us_ : the thought appeared suddenly in her mind, unbidden. _We make them, of our own honor and our own love, and that is where they exist._ The soul of their family would only go on if they themselves could embody what it meant to be Starks.

Sansa breathed the heady scent of pine and looked off toward the other end of the clearing.Out of the woods she saw an orange flag begin to take form, it was the fisted banner ofHouse Glover.Lord Royce saw it too, and he stiffened his shoulders in response.Their horses, seemed to sense that something of consequence was about to happen, and they shifted uneasily beneath their riders.

Lord Royce nodded to the standard bearers and the guards, and they began to fall into line around Glover, Cerwyn and Sansa, forming a protective cocoon with the Stark banners in front.Behind them many soldiers were massed, and somewhere back there was Erena on a fine black horse with a guard holding its bridle; ready to be lead forward when the time came.

Sansa’s eyes strained towards Glover’s banner, hoping in vain to catch a glimpse of Jon, but there was only a vague shifting mass of horses and bodies to be seen beyond the dark shapes of the tall trees.An indistinct blur of movement caught her eye to her right, and suddenly the white bulk of Ghost emerged from the thickets, a thousand leaves shimmering around him.He advanced tentatively, his bad ear drooping and his head hanging low, as though he was hoping she would accept his presence.

“Astonishing!” Cerwyn cried out.“The Direwolf has come.”The men of the Queensguard, in their gray armor, cleared a narrow path in order for Ghost to come forward.Sansa found herself speechless for a moment before beckoning him with an outstretched palm.He came and nosed her fingers, his massive tail wagging expectantly. 

“He’s meant to walk with us,” Sansa declared.Somehow she sensed the hulking animal was offering her a special protection, perhaps it was even an omen that her success was assured.She looked down at Ghost’s feet, caked in mud.His fur was matted here and there, especially the fur on the top of his head, which felt gritty as she stroked him.

‘It may be a sign,” Glover agreed.“It’s time to go forward.”

The Stark banners slowly advanced, while across the clearing those of House Glover emerged.Sansa caught her breath when she spied the tall form of Glover riding a brown courser, his shoulders squared and his breastplate glinting.A steely resolve possessed Sansa as she rode forward, especially with Ghost now padding beside her.His head was level with her horse’s breast, and he sniffed the air suspiciously as they inched forward. 

When they were near the center of the clearing, the banner men stopped.From the opposite side they waited for Glover’s procession to do the same.Finally, Glover rode out between his banners and pulled up his courser between them.Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn came forward as well, flanking Sansa, though ahead of her and Ghost.The guards put their hands on the hilts of their longswords as their horses swayed uneasily.

“Lord Glover,”Royce’s voice rang out.“The Queen has come herself with your daughter, Erena.Release Jon Snow, Lord Triston and the others, as you agreed.”

Glover strained his neck for a glimpse of his daughter.“I don't see her,” he said, his eyes boring into Sansa’s.Bring her out, and I’ll produce Jon Snow.” 

“It’s customary to acknowledge the Queen’s presence before speaking to her,” Glover said pointedly.“Erena will be brought when we are satisfied that you intend to comply with our conditions.”

Sansa raised a hand to quell the bickering.“I’ve come myself to this parley, Lord Glover.And to hear from your own lips why you’ve defied our demands.”

“Your King chose his own blood over the North.His name was false.”

Sansa urged her horse to advance a few steps, Ghost alongside her.She scanned the mass of bodies behind Glover to see if she could catch a glimpse of Jon.Glover seemed to be taking the measure of her: his eyes took in her crown and then fell to Ghost who had laid his ears back and was baring his large white teeth. 

“You see his wolf. Is that the mark of a Targaryen?”Sansa demanded.She set her jaw and looked straight into Glover’s eyes.“Your sentiments have not been generous, Lord Glover.Perhaps it’s even understandable to some small degree.But Jon proved himself in King’s Landing.Doesn’t your own Lady Sybell concur?Why else would she have sent me Lady Erena of her own accord?”

Glover spat into the grass. “My wife was afraid.”

“Afraid, or wise?”

Her question hung like lead in the air.“I will allow you to take Erena as soon as you show me Jon and Triston Mazin. But I urge you to give up your treason.I have the North.Think of your house’s future.” At her words, Ghost took a step or two forward and snarled fiercely.

“I’ll ride back with Erena this day, Lady Sansa.And you will have your Targaryen cousin.”

Glover raised his hand and motioned someone forward.From far back behind him came his son Gawen, slowly advancing on a black courser.Sansa had seen him some time ago, when he was younger; he had not been at Winterfell with his father in recent years. His hair was wavy and black; he was tall, but not so tall as his father. 

He dismounted, and pulled someone forward from behind his horse.Sansa drew a deep breath, trying to keep her composure at the sight of Jon.Their eyes locked, and Jon’s widened in disbelief.Ghost stiffened and whined, as if he were about to charge forward until Sansa laid a restraining hand on his head.Sansa saw that Jon’s wrists were bound and his clothing was caked in grime.But he was fit and walking normally. Then came Triston, gaunt and limping.

“Bring Erena,” She commanded.

From a distance behind, two horses wended their way through the mass of soldiers, both mounted and on foot.Erena, clad in Arya's blue dress and a heavy cloak was lead slowly forward until her horse was flush with Sansa’s.Her curly black hair was braided and pulled back at the temples, with the mass of it hanging free.Unlike Jon, she looked clean and well cared for; her hands were gloved as they grasped her pommel; her cloak was lined in fur against the cold.At the sight of her father and her brother, she kept silent, as Sansa had asked.

“Let her come,” Glover demanded from his horse, pushing Jon ahead by the shoulder.“Give me my daughter.”His voice was hoarse with emotion at the sight of her.On both sides, the soldiers tensed.There was a clang of shields and armor and the rustling of bodies moving.

Sansa signaled to her guardsman to help Erena from her horse.With a last glance to Sansa the dark haired girl ran toward her father as Gawen urged Jon towards Sansa and Ghost. One of Gawen's men handed Jon Longclaw in its sheath, which he gripped as best as he could. Gawen grasped Jon's shoulder, and then pushed him forward. Jon walked on his own feet to them until he was engulfed by Sansa’s Queensguard.He looked back at Gawen who nodded before turning to his sister.Next came Triston who was immediately assisted by the guard who’d brought Erena.

Guards on both sides rushed forward to face each other,swords drawn, while the horses and banners spun back and retreated to thegreen darkness of the forest.Lord Royce grabbed Sansa’s courser by the bridle and begin to lead her away. Sansa saw Lord Glover give her one last look of defiance before he pulled Erena onto his saddle and disappeared into a churning sea of flags and horsemen.

~~~

They were safely back at camp near the King’s Road before Sansa was able to dismount.Frantically her eyes scanned the crush of soldiers and horses for Jon.First she saw Triston being lead by Maester Wolkan to Erena’s Wheelhouse for treatment.He waved to her weakly and attempted to bow.

“Go,” she said.“Let the Maester attend to your leg.”

She turned her head, and then she saw him.Cords still hung from his wrists in shreds where a guard had hastily cut them.When Jon saw her, they both froze.Everything and everyone surrounding them seemed to drop away.

Jon came forward first, and they fell into an embrace.Then he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her gently.

“Sansa, what are you doing here?”His eyes dropped to her waist and then back to her face in disbelief.“You shouldn’t be out here.”

She trembled with a sob of relief, in spite of her effort to control herself.“I couldn’t trust this to the Lords,” she said.“You would have done the same for me." She squared her shoulders. "And Father would have expected it."

Jon drew back a step and touched her face where the metal of her crown rested against her hair. 

“My Queen.”His voice was tender and affectionate, without a trace of eitherpretense or submission.It was the voice of a lover or a brother, but most especially the voice of an equal.


	43. Second Life

“This can’t be allowed to stand!”Lord Cerwyn’s voice was angry and likely reflected the thoughts of most everyone present.

Sansa, Jon, Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn were gathered near the Queen’s wheelhouse, watching as the men now released by Lord Glover trickled into the camp, many of them wounded. Ghost stood off to the side, his red eyes alert to Jon’s every move.

“How many died in his attack?” queried Lord Royce, turning to Jon.He could have easily taken your life as well!"

Jon stood with his head bowed as Maester Wolkan examined the side of his face.He’d been cut under his ear during the battle, but it did not look to be serious.Maester Wolkan cleansed the abrasion with a linen cloth and then carefully applied an ointment that made Jon wince.

“I apologize, My Lord.But you don’t want an infection to set in.In fact I’m hoping for the best with Lord Triston’s leg.I’m afraid he was cut quite deeply. I’ve given him milk of the poppy, so he can sleep.”

Sansa frowned as she watched Wolkan toss the soiled linen into a bucket.“You were lucky.”

“Aye,” Jon said.“Some much less so.” 

“I say we go after them,” continued Lord Cerwyn. “We have the men here now.”

“I gave him my word we would let him go if he released Jon and Triston,” said Sansa. 

Jon wiped his brow on his sleeve, and looked at her wearily.“His son Gawen…he spoke to me last night.He told me he doesn't agree with his father.”

“But can he be trusted?” asked Sansa.“Did he give a reason?”

“He said he won’t oppose you when he becomes head of his house. Apparently he doesn't share Glover’s animosity.”Sansa’s eyes looked deeply into his, pondering his words.

“Perhaps we can get to the son, Your Grace.And avoid a deeper conflict.”Lord Royce had removed his helm and was gulping a ladle of water.“In any case, it could work in our favor.”

“Perhaps,” said Sansa. She turned back to Jon.“Do you know what happened to Tormund?He hasn’t been seen since Glover’s attack.”

“He’s not been killed. Glover would have been sure to tell me if he had.”

Sansa looked at him with consternation.“How can I give him The Last Hearth if he’s not here to accept it?”

“I imagine he’ll turn up.Some other men are missing as well, including the Wildlings who rode down here with us.Maybe they’ve all headed south.”

“Curious that we’ve heard nothing,” said Lord Royce.

Sansa touched Jon’s arm.“You must rest and eat.Eira has set out hot water for you in the Wheelhouse.”

“Indeed,” said Lord Royce.“It’s time to break camp and march south.”

~~~

Sansa came to sit with him after he’d washed as best he could in the awkward accommodations of the wheelhouse.She’d packed him a clean set of clothes among her things, and Eira had taken his leather doublet to be wiped with an oiled cloth.Sansa watched Jon silently as he ate a portion of stew with bread, and gulped a horn of ale.When he finished, they sat back on the cushions that were strewn along the wooden floor.He leaned against the pale planks of the wall and closed his eyes with relief and exhaustion.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said at last. "And I admire what you did.But mostly I’m glad you’re safe. You took a terrible risk.” He looked at her intently as she sat near him with her hands drawn over her knees. She’d packed her crown away and her braid hung loose over her shoulder.He noticed a new spray of freckles across her nose from her days of riding.

Eira came and went, taking Jon’s bowl and offering him more ale, which he refused.

“I had to come,” Sansa told him when the maid had gone.She stood to retrieve a ewer of water from a low table.As she reached for it, Jon’s eyes fell on the swell of her belly, just visible in the line of her dress. _Probably no one would even notice, unless they were looking for it_.Sansa caught his gaze and lowered her eyes, one hand moving to her abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “We should have waited. This is my fault.” Thoughts of his mother's fate crossed his mind, interfering with the happiness he knew he should be feeling.

“It’s not,” she told him. “You know I wanted you.”She poured a cup of water and took a sip, before placing it back on the table. Suddenly her shoulders sagged, and she put her face in her hands, as if to keep from crying.She turned away from him, as though trying to regain control of her emotions.

Jon reached for her and grasped her arm.“Sit with me for a moment.Tell me.”

Sansa knelt beside him, and he put his arm over her shoulder and drew her close.She curled up against him as he caressed her hair.

“I’m not sorry,” she said defiantly.“But it’s been so hard not knowing if you would live or die.”Tears spilled down her cheeks and she brushed them away impatiently. “I’m just relieved.”

Jon held her tighter and kissed the side of her face. “It’s alright now.” _But was it really?_ He wondered. There was still the matter of their wedding, and then sharing the news of her pregnancy. He thought of Lord Glover’s treachery.

“Glover be damned,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. _“_ I had to let him go.After everything he’s done - now he’s been left to do more.”

“It’s not over,” Jon agreed.“The girl got out safely, at least.How did she seem to you?”

“Torn between her parents.She’s a wild thing, like Arya.”

Jon chuckled.“Then you must not have liked her.”

“I liked her well enough.It would be a pity if she’d been hurt, all for her father’s idiocy.”

“He won’t do anything for now but go back to Deepwood Motte and lick his wounds.”

“For now.”She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “You’re safe, that’s what I care about at the moment.That and the baby.”

Jon moved his hand down her dress;the once taut plane of her waist was now rounded and firm.Her own hand grasped his and she dropped her head with a knowing smile.

“Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?” He asked.

“Sometimes I think it’s one, and then the other.What I most wish for them is a peaceful life.”

“I want the same, brave girl.” 

“I’m not brave,” she scoffed.“Not like you.”

“No, Sansa.That’s not true.”His words dropped between them like a pebble into still water, and they both fell silent. He felt her body softening against his, as if she were relinquishing the months of turbulence she’d endured. The rose scent of her hair engulfed him, and for a few brief moments, he returned to the serendipitous sense of happiness they had found together at Winterfell.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about us,” she told him, her hand still covering his own.A shimmer of desire ran through him, in spite of his fatigue.

“And?”

“It seems the gods have chosen to bless us after all.”She separated from him and leaned back on one hand, her blue eyes penetrating his. 

Jon took a deep breath and considered her words.Any talk about the gods was fraught with unknowns. It was impossible to disentangle them from the raw power of The North and its mysterious Weirwoods.

“I stopped bleeding as soon as we were together,” she continued.“Remember what the witch said? _The gods will send you proof…_ ”

“Aye, I remember,” he said uncertainly.The deep wood near Winterfell; the place he and their brothers had found the pups shadowed his memory.

“They gave us the the direwolves, and now they’ve given us a child.Ghost walked beside me to meet Glover. There’s a reason you came back, there’s a reason you lived.”

Jon remembered the darkness that waited on the other side of life.When he’d first told Davos and the Red Woman, the truth had terrified him, but he had since learned to live with it.He had never wished to be immortal, and so the finality he’d glimpsedwas almost comforting.The Red Woman had offered a different explanation for his second life, one that he’d never accepted.

“I dreamt of it.” Her words brought him back to the present.It seemed to him that Sansa’s face had never been so earnest; even when she’d persuaded him to take back The North, or when they’d parted on the docks.Her cheeks was flushed, and her eyes as intense as a lover’s.

“We’ve spoken of this.These things are not what we think they are,” he said. Then his voice softened.“But yes, there is no better reason to be alive.” _I understand that well,_ he thought.

They were facing each other, their knees almost touching.

"I dreamt it," she repeated. Her hand crept up his thigh before coming to rest on his forearm.She leaned over slowly and kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were soft like ripe figs. Cupping her face, he eagerly returned her ardor.Then, they remained still for a long moment, their foreheads just touching and their breath mingling.

She settled back on her haunches.“I’m not naive enough to think our prayers are always answered,” she said.“But surely my dream and the prattling of the witch mean something.We are meant to be together.The babe is meant to be born.”

Jon wanted to believe it.Being a man or a woman meant living in a world of uncertainties and cruelties.His truth now seemed to be nothing more than his connection to the living North through his body.Sansa, the wolves, the Weirwoods; he shared their life blood as did all northerners, and that was their reason to be.To live, to love, and to die as part of that.The highest attainment was in assuring its continuance. _The North gives us life, we must give something in return. And we must protect it._

 _S_ ansa’s eyes pierced his. “At one time I thought I would never marry.But now I see why I must, _why we must._ The truth was always in front of us, but we didn't see it.”

“But what of the Targaryens?” he asked, almost to himself.“I’m part of them as well.”

“You’ve renounced that.It only makes you stronger.”

Jon mused aloud “Then we’ve made a pact of our own blood?”

“I’ve not thought of it like that, but perhaps,” she told him.“Yes.”

“We are all that in some way, I suppose.” 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Sansa ran her hands down her skirts and called out.“Yes?”

The pale door of the wheelhouse swung out to reveal Lord Royce. Ghost stood a few paces behind him.“My Queen, My Lord.It’s time we left this place.”

Jon rose and helped Sansa to her feet.“I suggest you rest, Your Grace,” Royce continued,“It’s better for you to remain inside for now with Glover’s men still nearby.We’ll hitch the horses soon.”

“Yes,” Jon told her, his voice adamant. “I’ll ride with Lord Royce.”Eira appeared at the door with his doublet, which he hurriedly donned.He took up Longclaw from where it leaned against the wall. “You should rest.”

Sansa nodded reluctantly, as Jon stepped outside.With a reassuring nod to her, he strode away with Royce and his guards, Ghost trotting behind them.

Eira looked up at Sansa with appraising eyes. “You’re happy again,” she said with a smile.The maid urged Sansa to sit back down.“You must have your tea and some good food.I’ve heated a kettle for you.”Eira took the vessel by the handle andclimbed inside. Placing it on its iron stand, she rummaged through a basket for the raspberry leaf tea.

While allowing the fragrant brew to steep, she draped Sansa’s shoulders with a thick woolen shawl and sat down beside her.“He’s right. It’s time for you to rest. Let him take care of _you_ for a time.”


	44. Taking Wing

The next morning dawned brighter; there was a feeling of thaw in the air, and of spring continuing in spite of the snow that was encountered on the King’s road.Sansa rose early and splashed her face with cold water before putting on a practical dress of heavy and deep blue linen. The thick folds of its matching cloak, embroidered with a dragonfly motif, would obscure any hint of her growing waistline.She and Eira, and some of the maidservants had worked on the cloak during the months when Jon was away. Sansa was not certain why she decided to return to a theme she’d favored in her youth at Winterfell, when she had fancied the winged creatures.Perhaps it was because new possibilities had opened in her life again, with consequential transformations looming ahead.Even though they were busy with the gown they were planning for Sansa’s marriage, Eira had urged that the cloak be completed as well, saying it would be a welcome diversion.

The previous evening, Sansa and Jon had parted after a meal; he to a nearby tent that was in the same heavily guarded area as the wheelhouses.The two of them had gone to check on Triston, who was still being tended by Maester Wolkan in the smaller wheelhouse which had been occupied by Erena. Triston looked pale and gaunt, and he winced when he moved his leg, but Maester Wolkan insisted that Ursa’s older brother was now on the mend.Noticing that Jon’sface was etched with fatigue after his own ordeal with Glover and a long day of riding, she had urged him to retire to his tent.

Now she stood examining the rich greens, blues and yellows decorating her sleeves.Eira came in and urged Sansa to sit so she could straighten her hair and adjust her collar.

“I’ve heated the water and there’s still some flat bread from yesterday,” the maid told her as she removed a wheel of hard cheese from a crate. “You’d best break your fast inside, even with the sun out today the air feels chilly.” Sansa nodded absently as she smoothed her braid.Eira had deftly secured it with a leather band decorated with silver beading.“The cloak looks fine on you, I’m glad we were able to finish it.”

“I’ll be glad for you to be back at Winterfell,” the maid continued.“All the excitement can’t be good for you.”

Sansa reached for the tray of food that Eira had set beside her on the pallet.“I want nothing more than to be back as well,” she replied.

“Aye, you’ll be able to plan the wedding.That’s the most important thing right now.”Eira stepped out of the wheelhouse to fetch the kettle, as Sansa forced herself to take a bite of bread.The commotion of the past few days had left her with little appetite, but she feared the effects of not eating properly on the child she carried.Her mind quickly turned to Jon, and she wondered whether he’d risen yet.It surely would be wonderful to be back at Winterfell and be able to share a bed with him again, though they would have to be careful about it for the time being. In some part of her mind, Sansa could scarcely believe the exchange had gone well and Jon was now with her and safe.So many of her dreams had been upended from the time she’d first left home that she was in the habit of expecting the worst. 

Her thoughts drifted to the blue damask dress waiting back in her chambers, its heavy cloth patterned with twining vines.With each stitch, she had dreamed of the day she would be able to wear it.In some ways it wasstrange how her life was now unfolding. In her childhood reveries, she never would have imagined Jon as her bridegroom. But now she saw they were alike in many ways. Their enchantment with the heroes and songs they loved as children was now tempered by hard truths, yet they had found an answer of sorts in each other.Sansa admitted to herself that they might never know the answer to their questions about the gods, but surely there were different ways of understanding the enigmas that confronted them.The same mysteries would no doubt mark the life of their child.

Eira came in with the kettle.“Time for your tea,” she intoned as she set the vessel on the small clay brazier that heated the wheelhouse.She pulled a small linen sack from a storage basket and dumped a measure of dried raspberry leaves into the hot water.“Jon Snow looks to be on his way to see you,” she added coyly.“I saw him speaking to Maester Wolkan outside.”

“Oh?” Sansa replied.“I can finish making the tea myself.”

“I thought you could,” Eira remarked with a little smile.She looked down at Sansa’s sturdy boots and frowned.“I hope you aren't thinking of riding today.”

Sansa shrugged. “I don’t know, but sitting in here all day is tiring.” 

Eira’s face wore the usual look of concern to which Sansa had become accustomed, but the maid offered no reply as she stepped out of the wheelhouse.Sansa busied herself with steeping and pouring the tea.Before long, and just as Eira had predicted, there was a soft knock on the door and Jon came in.After a night’s sleep he looked quite refreshed, and the marks on the side of his face appeared to be healing. 

“I was just about to have my tea, would you care for some?” 

Jon came forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.“Yes,” he said, laying Longclaw aside and taking the spot she indicated among the floor cushions. “You look well.Is that a new cloak?”

“Yes, we worked on it while you were away.”Sansa handed him a earthen cup.“I’m afraid this is raspberry and not mint.Maester Wolkan has recommended it.”

“Then I’m sure it’s beneficial,” said Jon awkwardly.“Are you feeling alright?”

“I am,” said Sansa, settling down beside him.“I’m not so large yet. I rode most of the way on the King’s Road.”

“Yes, I know.”Jon took a sip of hot tea.“I wish you had been more careful.”His face was concerned rather than reproachful.

“It’s alright, really.And I’ve had another dress made as well.We’ll have to marry very soon after we get back. You agree don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Jon.“Have you spoken to any of the Lords?”

“A day hasn’t been formally announced.But Lord Royce has sent word out.Only the nearby houses will attend.It may be better that way.”

“Aye.”His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled.“I feel as if this is a dream.”

“Me too,” she told him. “I think I feel happier than I ever have. I know this is the right thing.”She put her cup down on the floor and smoothed her skirts.“Have you thought of what you will call yourself?What your name will be for the ceremony?”

Jon pulled one knee up.“I hadn’t considered it.I’ve kept the name Jon Snow for a reason.”

“I think you must use your given name. You are the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my Aunt.People know the truth by now."

Jon ran his hand along his hair, which was pulled back into a knot.“But the child will be a Stark.”

“Yes.But I don’t want our son or daughter to be ashamed of their father’s name. You are a Targaryen as well."

Jon drained his cup and then closed his eyes for a moment.“You’re right,” he said finally.“That wouldn’t be good.But I’d like to go on being called Jon, just the same.”

“You’ll always be Jon to me, “ She told him.“Always. The brother of my childhood.”Sansa felt her eyes filling for a reason she couldn’t fathom, and she impatiently wiped her eyes.“I’m sorry.You mean so much to me.All the times you fought for me and our family. I never told you enough."Her eyes dropped to her lap.

“And you for me, Sansa.”His words seemed to penetrate her very being.She looked back up at him. “Please don’t cry, it isn’t good for you.”He reached over and squeezed her wrist.“You can call me by whatever name you think is right.”

He went on, his voice soft and low.“I don’t know why I deserve this, I really don’t.But we’ll be together now, and I will take care of you.Whether you’re Sansa, or the Queen.” 

Then their arms found each other and they fell into a long embrace that somehow reminded Sansa of their farewell at the pier.She closed her eyes tightly against Jon’s shoulder as he held her.The sense of loss that she had felt at the time; her inability to bring Jon back to Winterfell, whether as her brother or as King, had haunted her for the two years they’d been apart.But now fate or the gods had seemingly answered her pain by granting them the gift of a new life, and a desire they seemed powerless to stop.

Sansa pulled away from him and smoothed the side of his face where it was marked. “It will take me a while to get used to this.”

“Get used to what?”

“Being happy, I suppose.Being fortunate.” He nodded wordlessly. He, of all people, would understand that.

From outside the wheelhouse, the sounds of footsteps and movement intruded on their conversation, and Sansa felt that she was emerging to the present from a long lost world.“We’ll be riding soon,” she told Jon.“Only one more day to Winterfell.”


	45. Protector of the Realm

The sight of Winterfell, rising jewel-like from the slopes had stirred Jon’s heart since childhood.Sansa was beside him today, on the same white horse she rode for the meeting with Glover.She was wearing her new cloak with dragonfly sleeves, and her bright hair, braided back from her temples, was shining in the sun. Ghost walked nearby, his fur dirtied and matted by his many days in the Wolfswood. Hundreds of men rode or walked behind them, followed by the wheelhouses and the carts that held the wounded.

Dozens of people lined the courtyard when they came through the gate, mostly servants and the soldiers who’d been left behind to guard the great castle.As soon as Sansa dismounted, Lady Ursa rushed to embrace her.The Mazin girl looked happy and fully recovered, and her mother, Lady Ursaline stepped forward and curtsied.Sansa directed them to Maester Wolkan’s wheelhouse where they could find Triston. The castle grounds rapidly reverted to organized chaos as the horses were lead off to the stables and injured soldiers were helped to the barracks for rest and treatment.Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn strode triumphantly towards the great hall, most likely to recount their exploits to an eager audience over flagons of ale.

According to Eira, a feast was being prepared, for which they must soon ready themselves, but Sansa took Jon by the hand and lead him through the granite archway of the Godswood.In the midst of the commotion, no one seemed to notice.

“Remember when you last arrived?” she asked.“We came here straightaway.”

“I remember,” he told her, as they walked arm and arm towards the great weirwood, with Ghost trotting ahead of them.Just like on the day the jonquils had begun to bloom, the sun was out in force.But now the trees were fuller with bright leaves and new kinds of flowers were evident.Low thickets of guelder-rose and boughs of crab-apple blossoms filled the air with an uncharacteristic sweetness and song birds trilled as they darted overhead. It seemed like a different world to Jon, a world glimpsed in childhood but then nearly forgotten.The broken tower, the dark pool, and the heart tree itself now assumed a mysterious purity that evoked a lost age.Jon had to admit to himself that he was uncertain whether such a pinnacle had ever really existed anywhere but in men’s minds.

But today such notions could be set aside because Sansa was next to him, and their immediate purpose had been achieved.She was serene in her dark blue cloak, her arms encased in its embroidered sleeves and its hem trailing through the sudden green of the grasses. She smiled at him as they approached the heart tree, and he felt a shiver of happiness. Within her body, she carried their son or daughter, who would be the future of Winterfell.For the moment, he allowed himself to believe that their time of trial was now over and a new chapterwas finally possible.

They stood in front of the tree for a long while, hand in hand, but each lost in their own thoughts. Then they walked slowly back to the keep to prepare for the feast.

~~~

Ghost had allowed himself to be bathed by one of the groomsmen, and to the consternation of some, the great direwolf was now present among the guests at the feast.At first he sauntered between the rows of trestle tables, sniffing at the air and the skirts of the serving girls, his coat brushed and gleaming.Finally, he settled on the hearth behind Jon's chair, his head resting between his forelegs and his eyes closed.The small daughter of one of the kitchen maids was stopped in her tracks by the sight of him.Wide-eyed, the child removed the rough crown of grasses and wood violet that encircled her hair and placed it on top of Ghost’s head so it ringed his good ear, but he remained asleep.

The candelabra were ablaze, and the tables were alight with dozens of candles.Branches of apple blossom and boughs oflaurel were placed in low heaps between platters of roasted meat and tureens of turnips and carrots.Servants passed among the rows of tables carrying trays of hot bread, ewers of ale and bottles ofstrongwine.

Sansa wore her dress of dove gray silk, her hair hung straight down her back but for two thick braids that combined in the center, woven throughout with tiny seed pearls.Seated to her right was Jon in his gray doublet and on her left was Lady Ursa, and her mother, Lady Ursaline, newly arrived from Crossreach.Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn also sat at the front table, nearest to Jon, and off at the end, one leg propped on a cushion was Lord Triston, who was mostly abstaining.The mood was light, in spite of the ordeal of Glover’s treachery.Voices of celebration echoed throughout the Great Hall, and the ale and wine were flowing freely.

Lord Royce raised his glass to the future of House Stark, now that word of Sansa’s upcoming marriage had spread among the soldiers and smallfolk, and he was answered with rousing cheers.The celebration wore on for quite some time until many of those seated in the crowd began to pair off and disappear,just as they had done after the victory against the Night King. 

The Lady Ursaline was a svelte woman of forty, blonde and pretty like her daughter, Ursa.She had a serious and dignified demeanor and had arrived to see to her children after being informed of their misadventure.Tonight she wore a dress of dark green brocade with a high collar.Jon noticed that she was not given to eating or drinking heartily, but instead preferred to watch those aroundher with a polite curiosity. 

“Your Grace, it delights me greatly that you have returned safely and House Stark will be restored.May my children continue to serve you in any capacity you require.”Sansa nodded and thanked her, casting a pleased smile at Jon.

“I owe you my gratitude, My Lord,” the older woman continued, speaking to Jon.“I fear that without your help, my dear Ursa and Triston may have come to great harm.”

“Ursa is a great help to the Queen,” Jon replied.“And a friend to us both.”He glanced at Ursa who smiled modestly and looked down at her lap.There was a sense of camaraderie at the table, a feeling that a deed of great import had been accomplished by working together.

“My Lord, My Queen, have you considered your wedding?What name shall My Lord employ then?” inquired Lord Cerwyn as he stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.The others at the table leaned forward, as if each one was pondering a matter of grave importance.

“We have considered this,” said Sansa. Jon bowed his head and studied his goblet. “He will use his true given name.”A hush fell over the small group.Lady Ursa fingered a stone on her necklace, and Lord Royce busied himself by refilling his tankard with ale.

Cerwyn looked to Jon.“Your Wolf appeared at the Queen’s side before the parley, a sight I will never forget.”

“Aye,” said Jon quietly.“He knew to protect her.”

“My Triston told me of this,” said Lady Ursaline.“My husband would have considered it a portent from the gods.”

Lord Triston cleared his throat.“ I wish my Lord Father could have lived to see this day,” he declared.“His devotion to House Stark knew no bounds.Jon Snow has proven himself as a Stark.Let us drink to him!”He raised his goblet, though he had barely touched his wine that evening.

“Here, here!” boomed Lord Royce, as all at the table raised their drinking vessels. “To your children!”

The servants brought out plates of apricot tarts, and the group began to converse amongst themselves.Lady Ursaline was eager to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony in the godswood with her daughter and Sansa, while the men spoke of replenishing the armory.After a time, She and Ursa rose to help Triston to his room, and Lord Royce and Lord Cerwyn went off to join their men in the courtyard, for the weather had remained mild into the evening.

“You see,” Sansa told him before she retired. “They’ve come to accept it.”Her red hair seemed to glitter in the firelight, and the pearls woven into her braids were a perfect match to her pale yet flushed complexion.There was a lightness about her tonight, after so many days of worry.

Later, when the halls were quiet, he came to her room.The instant he closed the door behind him, she was in his arms and they kissed passionately.His hands filled with pearls as he grasped her hair, and its rich scent seemed to affect him even more than the wine he had drank.

But after they’d gone to her bed and they were naked in each other’s arms, he hesitated.His hand found the ripening rise of her belly, no longer shielded by the fabric of her gown; Suddenly Sansa seemed fragile and vulnerable.“Is it alright?”, he asked.“I don’t want to hurt you.” She answered by pressing her body closer, and they coupled untilboth were spent.

Afterwards, she sat on the side of her bed, brushing the loose pearls from her hair, causing them to fall to the floor one by one and scatter on the stones.Jon sat propped on the cushions behind her, watching as she quickly wove a new braid down her back.The faint lines of her scars were now revealed, and heran his fingers lightly over them.His mood darkened as he thought of the suffering she had endured, a subject that had never been fully broached between them.An inner sense of propriety had always kept him from asking.

“Do your scars hurt you?” She asked, as though reading his mind.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.“Do yours?”

She turned around to look at him, her breasts swaying gently.“It’s like my skin is too tight in places.But I don’t usually notice it.”She reached for her robe where it lay on the floor and pulled it over herself.

“I never want to think about it,” he told her.“What he did to you.”

“I’d go to a place where nothing could touch me. That’s how I survived.”She settled next to himand drew a blanket across their bodies.The fire had died down, and the air was chilly around them.

“Where?” he asked, remembering his encounter with death.

“Our childhood, before Robert Baratheon came.”

Jon pondered her words. “We’ve come a very long way to get back here.”

“When you told us the truth about yourself, why did you?”

“I thought if I never saw you again, at least you would have heard it from me.”

“It didn’t change who you are to me. Of course it changed you from my brother to my cousin, but it didn’t change anything deeper about who you are.I still believed in you, no matter your name.And that’s why you should use it when we marry.The name Aegon Targaryen shouldn’t be regarded as a curse.For our children’s sakes.”

The light from the flickering candles played across her face as he listened and tried to absorb her words.. “All I ever wanted was to protect the North.”

Sansa ran her fingers down his neck and over the scar near his heart. “In the end you did.And you will again.”

“I thought I knew what was right.I thought she was different.”His mind drifted back to his time with Dany.How she’d seemed like a savior to so many; at one time even to himself.Tyrion had always said she would never be the Queen of the Ashes.But that was exactly the fate that had befallen her, and worse, those she had destroyed.

Sansa rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I know your heart.That’s why I did what I did.The world is a broken place.But we have to find a way to go on.We _have_ found a way.It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.”

She turned and blew out the candles, before nestling again in his arms.For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to fall into a dreamless sleep


End file.
